


Iniquitous

by Nedelbedze



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Established Relationship, King Joel, M/M, Mad King Ryan, Magical Realism, Mavin, Mogar, Post-Achievement Hunter, bear!Michael, king AU, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:56:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6974428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nedelbedze/pseuds/Nedelbedze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Geoff's card & games shop was shut down for noncompliance with gaming laws, Achievement Hunter scattered to the winds to find more legitimate employment, much to the dismay of fans. Michael and Gavin stayed behind while the rest went in search of new opportunities in the neighboring country.<br/>Years later, when a letter from Jack invites the gang back together for a night of celebration, violence erupts and tears them apart again.<br/>Alone in a foreign country, Michael meets the charming King James Ryan Haywood but soon wishes he had never left home in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Over the Hills and Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this off and on for the past...2 or 3 years. I figured it was time to finally post something before the company changes too much and makes my old references even older. I have about half the story (maybe 20 chapters) written, but I need to rewrite/add in a few details.  
> 

"Sun's comin' up, oh oh! It wants the world to know, got to let it show."  
  
Michael continued whistling the rest of the tune while dawn slowly painted with red and pink in the sky. He sat down on the door step after knocking again.  
  
The city was quiet. The occasional pigeon flew from roof to roof, and a cottar and his two pigs made their way over to an alleyway butcher.  
  
It didn't sound like he had woken up yet. Michael would have been content to sit there for another few moments if he wasn't kind of in a hurry. He stood up again.  
  
"Hey Gavin," he yelled up to the open second story window facing the street. "I'm gonna need you to get out here, buddy. Gotta' get the day going before too many assholes wake up and know we're gone." He picked up a loose rock from the cobbled streets and threw it in the window.  
  
"Oww!"  
  
"That's what you get for locking your fuckin' door. I hope I hit you in your big nose!"  
  
A voice coming from behind Michael startled him. "Hey Michael, am I an asshole?" He turned around to face a boy across the street.  
  
"Oh hey, Caleb, what a coincidence! Nah, you're cool I guess, all working at the capitol now and shit. Where you off to anyway, castle's the other way, idiot!"  
  
"I'm the King's little messenger-boy now! I'm running instructions off to your boss about building a thing." Caleb jogged in place as they talked, rubbing his hands together to keep warm in the early morning chill.  
  
"Oh shit, don't let him know I won't be here. Wait, you weren't invited?" Michael asked.  
  
"No, I was, but I can't be like you slackers. The Crown needs me, haha! Tell them congrats for me, though, would you?"  
  
"Okay, but I work hard, you know. I deserve this break..."  
  
Michael got quiet when Caleb walked over to him, looking around for onlookers before taking something out of his pocket. He placed a small leather bag in the other boy's hands and closed his fingers around it.  
  
"What's th-"  
  
"Shh!" Caleb spoke in a hushed voice now, still scanning the houses for prying eyes. "My job's gotten a little weird lately. I can't tell you why or how, but I wasn't sent for just your boss. They said I'd see you, and here you are. I gave you a present to give to the happy couple for me, but also something for you from the crown. Be careful, okay?"  
  
Michael nodded. The shorter boy smiled, patting Michael on the shoulder and turning to walk away.  
  
"Oi, you hit me on my arm, Micoo'! That 'urt!" A groggy Gavin leaned out of his window to complain to his boy below.  
  
"Gavvers, get dressed before I climb up there and hit you." Michael sighed in exasperation.  
  
"Hi, Gavin! Long time no see, huh?"  
  
"Caleb!" Gavin squawked and tried to throw a blanket around his unclothed self. "What're you doing out so early?!"  
  
"Haha, just on official business, which I'll be setting off for now. We need to catch up, guys, it's been too long!" Caleb turned, winked at Michael, and jogged down the street, while Gavin sputtered in embarrassment.  
  
"What was that, Michael?"  
  
"Wot was'at, Micoo'?!" Michael mocked Gavin. "Please, just hurry the fuck up so we can go!" He threw another small chunk of cobble up at the window.  
  
Gavin wrinkled his nose to make a face at him before receding into the room, closing the shutters behind him. Michael walked back to the outer wall of the house to lean against it and exhaled in impatience. Remembering what Caleb gave him, he opened up the little leather bag and spilled its contents into his hand. He guessed the coins were from Caleb, and raised his brow at their value. Caleb must be a smuggler on the side or something. Michael didn't understand how he could afford to give so much.  
  
He examined the other gift. It was a marble? The king wanted him to have a glass marble? He'd heard some weird stories about the guy, but never guessed he randomly gave out trinkets to his subjects. Upon further inspection, he noticed it had a hole drilled near the top to hang from a string. He turned it in his fingers, squinting in the dawn light to make out the details in the middle. Looking at it from one direction revealed the tiny silhouette of some four-legged animal and from another direction the animal twisted to form a person. Michael's vision wasn't the best, but he could see that the gaffer who crafted this was no joke. Sighing at the weird gift, he dug a thin cord out of the bag, strung the marble on it and tied it loosely around his neck. He was just tucking it into his smock when he heard a loud thud followed by a crash coming from in the house.  
  
"Fucking dumbass," Michael muttered, putting the coins back in the bag and pocketing them. More shuffling and slamming of drawers followed, then the rushed pounding of a certain clumsy lad descending the stairs. The dead bolt was lifted and a disheveled Gavin spilled out of the front door. He turned to face Michael, glaring at him.  
  
"You've bloody taken my hat!"  
  
Michael stood up off of the wall to face Gavin.  
  
"No, think about how long it's been since I last saw you. I have not bloody taken your fucking hat, Gavin," he mocked the other boy's accent again. "Now come on, we're going to be late!"  
  
Gavin huffed and came out from behind the door, closing and locking it. Michael already started walking, and Gavin hurried to catch up with a small lute in tow.  
  
"Michael, I didn't want to walk all the way over to Jack's house without my hat." he pouted.  
  
"Well, go fuckin' cry about it some other time, Gavin, I'd like to get there before the next decade."  
  
They hadn't walked far before Michael stopped. "We should re-read the letter, just to make sure we're actually going the right way."  
  
"But Michael, I've already read it, we wouldn't be going this way if we didn't have to."  
  
"Just give me the fuckin' letter. I'm not a smart man, okay, I didn't go to school. I want to go over it again, so gimme'."  
  
Muttering in exasperation, Gavin got the letter out of his rucksack and threw it at him. 

> "Dear Gavin,  
>  You're cordially invited to stay with Caiti and I for an al fresca dinner and evening of games and drinking. We've just put the finishing touches on the house we built, and we wanted the old crew to join us in celebrating. When's the last time we all got together under one roof anyways? It's been too long, I miss you all.  
>    
>  The date we're planning this for is the 64th day of Summer. Get here anytime around sunset that day and that will be fine.  
>    
>  You'll probably need some directions. Take the southern road out of Rook and just follow that until you have to cross a river, then take the left turn at the fork. That road ends after a while, but it's all grassland, so just keep walking in that direction and you'll see our property after you walk up a big hill. It's the only farm around for miles, so it's hard to miss. If you manage to get lost, just go back to the road, and we'll all come rescue you after we're done eating.  
>    
>  Could you please inform Michael of this invite? We never got his new address, so you'll have to let him know we want him there, too. I'm assuming you two still hang out. I'm also assuming you both are walking. You'll probably want to leave right about sunrise if you want to get here by sunset, but I could be off on that, I'm just guessing.  
>    
>  Also, I got married! You have no idea how excited I am for you guys to finally meet Caiti, she's the most beautiful and talented woman in the world and you'll all love her like I do, except I love her more.  
>    
>  I'm really excited and can't wait until everyone gets here! It'll be just like old times.  
>    
>  Sincerely,  
>  Jack"

Smiling to himself, Michael tucked the letter back into Gavin's bag, and they continued walking.  
  
"So, still kickin around with rocks and wood, Michael?" Gavin asked, moving out of a passing ox's path.  
  
"Oh, you mean my job, which provides me money for food and shelter which I am thankful for?" Michael responded in mild annoyance.  
  
"Well, you know."  
  
"Dude, working in construction isn't that bad. It's a bit dangerous at times, but the pay's good enough. Just because you don't think it sounds like decent work doesn't mean I'm not okay with it. What about you, asshole, still drawing dead dudes?"  
  
Gavin sighed, "Well, yeah, but I can't very well pay rent on my stupid flat on executions alone. I have to make and mend people's mingy shoes just to make ends meet, now don't I?"  
  
"What if you just moved in with me? My wardrobe and lonely heart could use some mending."  
  
"Everyone would run us out of town if they didn't hang us, Michael, that's why." Gavin shot back.  
  
Michael waved his arms, shaking his head, "No, no, not like that. Say you 'rented' a room. I could find someone else to actually rent the other spare room, and no one would be the wiser. It'll be, like uh, what is that word, bachelors! It'll be a bachelor's pad, we'll party it up, drive the neighbors crazy. Besides, people like that pink character in that play you always used to go on about."  
  
"Oh, haha, Donut? He's lightish red, you sausage."  
  
"I'll be your Doc if you'll be my Donut," Michael teased.  
  
"You've never even seen Red Versus Blue. Besides, Donut gets shot with an arrow, I don't want that."  
  
"Well, I'll get shot and you'll fix me up, whatever man."  
  
"Just a second ago, did you compare your heart to a shoe, Michael?" Gavin snickered.  
  
"Shut up."  
  
The streets were starting to fill with more people and businesses started opening up. Chamber maids tossed buckets of piss and other contents into the streets, and the smell of fresh baked bread and fecal matter filled the air.  
  
"Michael!" Gavin abruptly stopped walking and looked at him in panic. "I've completely forgotten to empty the pisser before we left!"  
  
Michael groaned. "Ugh, you. Freaking. Idiot. I'll hold your lute, get some breakfast, and wait here. You run and take care of that."  
  
When Gavin came back several minutes later, Michael handed him a chunk of honey cake and they were on their way again.  
  
They arrived at the edge of town and were about to pass by the Custom's shack when a pale girl with black hair leaned out of the window, "Hey, you two."  
  
Michael and Gavin stopped in front of her.  
  
"You guys are heading out of town?"  
  
"Yeah, we're actually on our way over to the border to meet up with some friends." Michael pointed in what he assumed was the right direction.  
  
"Well, you guys should watch out. People talking about escaped criminals, you know. They're camping out there in the countryside or something."  
  
"Arryn, you're always going on about the crazies on the roads. I'm sure we'll be fine."  
  
"Nope. This time it's real. King's even got Guardians on their way I've heard. They'll be here any day now, but I'd still be careful if I were you two."  
  
They said their goodbyes and continued to walk out of town onto the open road. The wide dirt path was empty of carts this time of day, though it was mostly empty any other time anyway. In places the road was hard to distinguish from the rest of the grassy hills from lack of use.  
  
"You know, actually, shouldn't Caleb have mentioned something to us if Joel's sending Guardians all the way out here? In the direction that we're heading, you don't think he might've known something about it?"  
  
Michael thought back to their exchange earlier. "He said we should be careful, while you were busy getting dressed."  
  
"Lad can't be the only messenger the King's got. He tell you anything else?"  
  
"No. He was just on his way, happened to stop by and chat was all." Michael hesitated. "I take it back, he did give me something. A shit ton of money to give to Jack and Caiti."  
  
"Oh! Let me see!"  
  
Michael dug the coins out and they both marveled at them for a bit before he put them away again.  
  
"Anyway, Caleb might've gotten different directions than we did, Jack probably told him to go on another road or something," Michael said.  
  
"Yeah, or Jack was going to have him meet up with us so we could all walk together. Maybe Caleb really doesn't know about the criminal thing." Gavin kicked a rock along the path.  
  
"Or, Arryn's just pulling our legs again. Either way, who cares."  
  
The two took a moment of silence to breathe in the clean late-summer air of the countryside, erasing the city stench of sewage and trash from their noses. Gavin changed the subject.  
  
"You know a lot of people who get hanged get a boner when they die?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah.  
  
"Why?"  
  
Gavin shrugged. "Blood goes everywhere, goes in their nobs. Should I play a bit of music while we walk?" He held his lute up to his stomach, positioning his hands to strum it.  
  
Michael reached for it, taking it out of Gavin's grasp. "I want to play something, before you start." He held the instrument awkwardly to himself, his right arm attempting to cradle it and strum with his fingers at the same time. Walking made it difficult to hold properly, but he found the chord he wanted and began to sing softly, grinning to himself.  
  
"They took you Nightman  
  
and you don't belong to them.  
  
They left me in a world of darkness without your sexy hands  
  
and I miss you Nightman,  
  
so baaaaaad-"  
  
Gavin laughed and joined in singing with him.  
  
"Dayman  
  
fighter of the Nightman,  
  
champion of the...sun..."  
  
They burst into laughter before they could finish the verse. Michael fumbled, attempting to alternate plucking with his thumb and pointer finger but couldn't get the tune back.  
  
"I messed it up," he quickly shoved the lute back in Gavin's hands. "I'm still not very good at this stupid instrument, heh."  
  
"I rather liked it." Gavin smiled warmly. He proceeded to move the lute into perfect form, his right arm lining up with the strings, the instrument supported by his wrist holding the sound board to his body. "You're better at singing than I am, that makes up for it." He plucked, alternating his thumb and pointer finger as Michael had tried to, picking up a tune he hadn't played for some time.  
  
Michael smiled, recognizing the song. He watched Gavin strum with ease, closing his eyes a little as he sung. When he glanced up, Michael blushed and looked away. Gavin continued to sing while looking at him. It was an old but popular love song, really sweet and corny. They used to sing it all the time together back at Geoff's shop.  
  
Gavin tripped over a large rock in the road and stumbled, the lute falling out of his hands as he squawked in surprise.  
  
"You idiot!" Michael shook with laughter. "Goddamn, dude."  
  
"You're rubbish," Gavin whined, the embarrassment flushing his face. He picked up the lute and dusted it off, opting to carry it instead of resuming the song. "You're absolute rubbish."  
  
Gavin finished dusting himself off and hurried to catch up to Michael, who was still laughing at him. He looked at Gavin. Michael held back the urge to kiss him, but his pouting face invited at least a peck on the lips. Still smiling, Michael shook his head in playful disapproval, and reached for Gavin's hand. Gavin held on tight, and they continued walking across the country side.  
  
-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published 5/26  
> 2,705 words


	2. Sugarless

The sun had just gone down when the pair finally crossed the last hill and could see Jack's house at the bottom. It was nestled against a stand of trees, with a stream and a barn close by. A large pen housed two cows and a pig, and a chicken coop leaned on the side of the barn facing them. Though Michael and Gavin were exhausted from a long day's walk, they gleefully ran down the grassy slope. They heard music and chatter coming from the house as they closed in on it, circling around to the front to find everyone at a large table with lanterns strung overhead.  
  
As the two approached, the party stopped to greet the two latecomers.  
  
"Heeeey! You guys made it!" Jack called out over everyone else. He made his way through the chairs and guests to catch the two in a strong embrace. His mustache-goatee combo of a few years ago had now become an impressive beard, and with the added spectacles, the boys almost didn't recognize him. He let go of them and spun them around to face the party.  
  
"Guys," he gestured over to a petite brunette in the corner, "this would be the lovely Caiti, my wife. Caiti, this is Gavin and Michael."  
  
"Hello," she beamed and waved at them.  
  
"Pleasure to meet you!" they both replied.  
  
"The Lads are all here!" Ray yelled as he ran around the table, jumping over a chair and landing in a forceful group hug.  
  
All three of the lads started yelling and jumping around while the rest watched and laughed.  
A voice from behind them yelled, "Hey dickwads, what about me?" They turned around to see Geoff standing with his arms crossed in mock-anger.  
  
"Get shit on, Geoff, no one cares about you," Ray quipped, but Michael and Gavin pushed past him to hug their former boss.  
  
"That's what I thought, losers," the mustachioed gent said, hugging them back. "Happy late birthday, by the way, Michael."  
  
"Oh, thanks Geoff."  
  
It had been a couple years since Michael had heard from anyone, aside from Gavin several months ago. To be surrounded by the old crew again was surreal.  
  
-  
  
After they were over the reunion, Jack led Gavin and Michael around the house and barn to show off his handy work. It was a finely crafted home; they were impressed. The old joke of Jack wondering off to build a house became reality. When they got back to the food, the evening quickly declined into silly, drunken antics and games, save for Ray who still refused to drink. Eventually he won so many card games he got bored and made his way inside and upstairs to find sweet rest in a straw and feather mattress. Of all of them, Ray and Tina had traveled the farthest to get there. Griffon, Caiti, and Jack were soon to follow, though they ended up in the mess of furniture downstairs. Geoff lasted just long enough to stumble over to the barn with Michael and Gavin to continue the party. They sang away at the top of their lungs another silly tune they used to sing as a joke to each other.  
  
"So how's living this side of the border been treating you, Geoffrey?" Gavin asked when they finally settled down.  
  
"Hmm? Oh, it's fine, Griffon loves it here. The air is so fresh, you know? Not like where you city rats live."  
  
"You lived there, too, asshole," Michael said.  
  
Geoff leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. "You two don't know what you're missing. I wouldn't move back to...all that, not even to save my life." And with that, he fell asleep.  
The lads stifled their giggling, exchanging mischievous looks.  
  
"We should shave his mustache off," Gavin whispered.  
  
Michael laughed silently. "No, no," he said, quieting down. "I have something better in mind, come on." He motioned for the other boy to follow him.  
  
They left the lantern with Geoff, the glow being bright enough to light their way to the ladder. They drunkenly climbed up into the loft and crept behind a pile of hay.  
  
"Wot're you planning all the way back here, Michael?" Gavin slurred.  
  
A roughly planted kiss was his reply.  
  
Taken by surprise, Gavin melted into it, as Michael tasted the alcohol off of the other boy's lips. Michael's hands made their way slowly to hold Gavin's face in one and his body closer to himself with the other. He could feel the start of an erection in Gav's pants and he smiled into the kiss as though it was something he wasn't supposed to find out. Gavin reached up to grasp the collar of Michael's shirt in both fists and pushed away a little. Michael looked at him in confusion. "Do you want this?"  
  
"Of course I do, you dope-"  
  
"Then what's the hold up?"  
  
Agitation briefly crossed Gavin's face. "I just thought..uh, I don't know, when was the last time we did this?"  
  
"Who cares, dude, it's happening now. Hey!" Michael shook him by the shoulders. "Look at me. Geoff is passed the fuck out, and so is everyone else back in the house. We can go crazy! It's going to be fun."  
  
Gavin still looked a little uncertain but mischievousness soon replaced that.  
  
"Who's your boi?" Michael asked.  
  
"You're my boi, Micool. My lovely little boi."  
  
"That's what I thought, come here-" He grabbed Gavin by the back of the neck and closed the space between their lips in a mad dash to resume where they left off. With his free hand, he began feeling up under Gavin's shirt. Gavin reached down to palm the growing bulge in Michael's pants, but just as he did, Michael pulled out of the kiss and grabbed his wrists. "Hey, woah. Slow down there. You want this?" And with that he leaned into Gavin. His face thoroughly flushed, Gavin simply nodded, his eyes betraying his eagerness.  
  
Michael flashed a cold grin, and, still holding onto Gavin's wrists, walked backwards until he pinned the other boy against the barn wall with his hands above his head. Michael resumed the kiss and ground his hips into the other boy. Gavin moaned at the contact, responding to it by wrapping one leg around Michael's legs as if he could bring him any closer. The teasing was getting to be too much before Gavin tried talking through their kisses.  
  
"Michael--please-"  
  
He ignored the other boy's cries for release. He needed this; needed to take in Gavin's scent, his little noises and squirms. The two stank from walking a few dozen miles on a hot summer day. Gavin was usually such a stickler for cleanliness, but Michael couldn't get enough of it. He finally gave in to Gavin's plea and laid him down on a bed of hay. Dust flew up around them, causing them both to sneeze and giggle. Michael positioned himself over the other boy so his face was close to Gavin's. He could barely make out the dumb smile in the dim light from downstairs. Tenderly, he connected their lips while reaching down to fumble with Gavin's pants. When Michael managed to free Gavin's erect cock, he pumped it a few times before placing it in his mouth and sucking. Feeling the heat of Michael's mouth, Gavin threw his head back into the hay and grabbed the other boy's curly locks into his fists.  
  
Gavin inhaled sharply when Michael bobbed up and down, speeding up and taking Gavin deeper into his mouth. "Oh bugger me."  
  
"I fully intend to," Michael said before reaching up to kiss Gavin again, hand back on his cock. "And I was serious earlier, about you moving in with me. I never see you anymore."  
  
"I've missed you a lot," Gavin said.  
  
"I missed you, too."  
  
"Why do you always wait til we're drunk to do this stuff?" Gavin asked quietly. Michael didn't know how to answer that. It was a sore topic for them both, and part of the reason they hadn't hung out in so long.  
  
But the sound of hoofbeats nearing the house outside cut off his train of thought. He jumped up to put his clothes on, and Gavin quickly did the same. Peering out of the upstairs hay-door, Michael's heart skipped a beat. Gathered outside of the house were several riders, a few carrying torches, and a few more who had already dismounted and were entering the house.  
  
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" Michael whispered under his breath.  
  
"What's going on down there?" Gavin asked.  
  
"Remember those fugitives Arryn was warning us about? Well, that's them."  
  
"Oh bloody-" Gavin cut himself off as he turned around and realized Michael had already made his way down the ladder.  
  
"Geoff? Geoff, wake up man, hey!" Michael quietly shook the sleeping gent, but to no avail. Gavin joined him.  
  
A scream coming from the house sent cold dread running through both the lads' veins.  
  
"Gavin, I'm going to need you to try and drag Geoff behind a pile of hay or something, make sure you're both hidden, can you do that, buddy?"  
  
"But what about you, Michael?" It took everything Gavin had not to yell at the other boy.  
  
Michael bit his lip and scanned the room. A long sickle hung on a rack of tools on the far wall. He grabbed it.  
  
"I guess I have to go out there."  
  
"Michael, don't go. Michael!" It was too late, he had already walked out of the barn.  
  
He had planned on first attacking the men still outside, but more screaming and the sound of furniture in the house being knocked over changed his mind. He ran past the riders and into the fray.  
  
Griffon had taken the ax hanging above the mantle and hacked into one of the attackers with it, but was being overtaken by another. Jack was trying to hold off two men while another was restraining a passed-out Caiti and preparing to haul her outside. Ray was fighting against a man trying to climb the stairs, but since the lad had the higher ground, he was holding up. When Michael burst through the door, the men outside caught up to him and tackled him, throwing his weapon uselessly across the room. He lay on the floor, crushed under the weight of two men and all the breath left his lungs. Winded, heart pounding in his ears, he heard the continued screams and struggles of his friends fighting and losing. The fear and shock of the situation gave way to fury. Michael could feel his blood run hot, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and his breathing quicken. He felt himself swell with strength. His vision blurred, but he was able to lift the two men and shake them off of him. Their cries of fear were the last thing he remembered before blacking out.  
  
-  
  
By the time Ray knew something was wrong, it was too late. He shot up out of bed upon hearing the barging of the front door. "Hide!" he told Tina before dashing down the stairs to see wild-eyed straggly men breaking in to the house. Fear gripped his heart, but he saw his opportunity and lunged at the closest one, using his height from the stairs and acceleration to his advantage. Were he a bigger man, he would not have been shrugged off so easily. Retreating up the stairs a ways, he landed a few kicks on the pursuing attacker, vaguely aware that the others by this point had stirred and were in a fight for their lives as well. It was all he could do to keep this one guy from pulling his sword out, and he couldn't see any way out. He was trapped in defense.  
  
That's when he looked over at the door when Michael burst in, scythe in hand. Ray was almost relieved until his friend was taken down immediately. Enraged, Ray shoved the palm of his hand up into his adversary's nose, sending him flying back into the wall. He wasn't out, but he was down,. That was good enough for Ray as he leapt off the stairs once again onto a much more manageable opponent. In his haste to come to Michael's aid, he didn't understand what was happening until it was too late.  
  
Where Michael had been on the floor there was now a growing bulge of fur and claws. Where had it come from? Ray didn't have time to duck when the beast lashed out at his attackers, smacking him in the process. Ray was sent sprawling back into the stairs, knocking his glasses askew. Frantic, he tried to move out of the way as the beast came rushing towards the man that Ray had fought just a moment ago. It was too late. Excruciating pain shot through his arm as it was crushed under foot. He cried out as he attempted to drag himself up the stairs to safety. The man at the bottom landing had been thoroughly mauled and the thing that caused it had moved on to the rest of the room. Come what may, Ray was in no shape to help the others. Before disappearing to the second floor, Ray managed to get a good look at the beast. It was a bear?  
  
"Tina," Ray loudly whispered into the gloom. He didn't know if she could hear her over the din below them. "Tina? Hey, help me up."  
  
She came crawling out of the dark. "Oh my god, Ray, what's going on? Holy shit, is that your arm?" She almost recoiled at the sight of his mangled, bloody limb.  
  
"Fucking yeah." Ray grimaced. "Shit hit the fan down there. I think there's a bear. Help me bandage this up, I'm gonna pass out."  
  
"Shit, um, ok. Wait, a bear?!"  
  
"Hey, stay calm, I'm the one about to die here--" His head hit the floor, and he was out.  
  
-  
  
Michael awoke to the sun streaming through a broken window onto his face. He was on the floor next to a giant smear of congealed blood, one of many in the room. Groaning at his splitting headache, Michael slowly got up to his feet, pulling away the blanket covering him. He realized he was actually naked, so he lifted the blanket back up to cover himself. His glasses were on the floor next to him. He put them on. Looking out over the room, he found he was in Jack's house, with bodies and broken furniture littered all over the place. Confused and sickened by the sight, he stepped over the corpse of a shredded man, but upon further inspection, Michael concluded it wasn't Gavin, Jack, Ray, or Geoff. Most of the bodies were disfigured and torn apart in a bloody mess. Broken rib cages poked through the chests of two of them, one's head and upper torso were completely smashed in, and others were separated from their limbs. But none of them were his friends as far as he could tell.  
  
He looked to the stairs to see a table jammed between the steps and the ceiling. Ray was peering down at him from behind the table and banister.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Oh. Hey." Michael cleared his throat.  
  
"Thanks for saving us last night," Ray said. His face was tired and wary with no hint of gratitude.  
  
Michael's brow furrowed. "What, uh. What happened? Do you know?"  
  
"Why don't you tell me."  
  
Michael heard muffled sobbing come from upstairs. Ray didn't take his eyes off of him. Michael rubbed his forehead, the headache was killing him.  
  
"Did I...do this?"  
  
"Look at your hands, man."  
  
Michael looked down at his palms. They were caked in dried blood, and bits of skin and flesh were stuck under his fingernails. How did he not notice that before now?  
  
"Is everyone okay? Where's Gavin and Geoff?" Michael's voice cracked a little. "I remember something about telling Gavin to hide. We were, uh, messing around in the barn. I don't know anything past that."  
  
Ray briefly glanced behind him, as if he needed to. "Yep, they're all right here with me, no worries there. You saved all of us."  
  
Michael still stood in the same spot, trying to look past Ray. "Gavin?"  
  
He could hear rustling, but no one said anything.  
  
"Gavvers, you up there?"  
  
"Hi Michael." Was his subdued reply.  
  
Taken aback that his friends were there out of sight and listening to him, Michael continued.  
  
"Can I have some clothes, or something? I think I'd like to go wash-" He was cut off by his bag of provisions being thrown down onto the floor in front of him. Hurt by the coldness of Ray's demeanor, and now this, Michael picked up his bag and rifled through it to make sure he had brought extra clothes after all.  
  
"Jack says there's a lake out in the pasture and if you walk far enough on the other side of the road, you'll see it. You can go wash up there."  
  
"Thanks." Michael achingly made his way outside and over to the lake. It was a longer walk than he expected. He almost turned back to make sure there was actually a lake, but decided against it. Whatever happened last night, it must have been his fault somehow. He must have killed those men. His friends were attacked? He mulled it over in his head until he arrived at the water. The lake was secluded, half surrounded by trees and almost calm enough to reflect the sunrise perfectly. When he made his way down the hill to the shore, he tested the temperature. It wasn't warm, but it wasn't cold either. Perfect.  
  
Michael set his bag and blanket down on the shore and waded in until he could swim. He went out towards the middle, but the lake was longer than he thought. It'd be easier to just walk along it, if he wanted to explore. Leisurely, he floated on his back and resumed thinking about what happened.  
  
-  
  
Michael figured he must have been out on the lake for a while. When he got back to the shore, his skin was pruned. He set to work actually cleaning himself, scrubbing off what blood was left all over his hands, arms, and feet. He found a twig and used it to get the bits of flesh out from under his fingernails. He couldn't tell if his hair was clean or not, but he ran his fingers through it several times under water anyway. He was startled to hear someone approaching when he came up for air.  
  
"Damn it, we thought you got lost or drowned, Michael."  
  
Michael stood up, the water was only up to his thighs. "Hi Gavin."  
  
"Get dressed, will you. King's Guard is at the house."  
  
"Wait, the Guardians? Joel's men?" Michael asked.  
  
"No, you dope. Some other king's men. Hurry up."  
  
"Oh. Okay." He couldn't tell if Gavin was on edge around him or not. He didn't see why he would be, but Ray certainly was earlier. He thought Gavin was turning to leave, but he just stood there. He was giving Michael privacy so he could get dressed.  
  
"I'm giving you a free show and you don't want to see it?" Michael teased.  
  
Gavin smiled a little. "Just get dressed already, you donut."  
  
Michael smiled. His boy would never turn on him, even if some insane shit went down. He remembered their time in the barn loft and blushed.  
  
When he had finished drying off and getting his clothes on, they walked back to the house together.  
  
"Gavin, what happened last night. Please tell me."  
  
The other lad sighed. "I don't actually know. Well, I do, sort of, because Ray told me. He saw it all best, you know, since he was sober. I know you told me to hide Geoff, and I tried, but I really couldn't move him, so I covered us up with some canvas and blew out the lantern. I didn't have to worry about hiding anyway, you drew all the attention to yourself. When things quieted down, Jack came looking for us. I was so relieved to see him, everything was so quiet, I thought maybe you all had died or something. He helped me carry Geoff out, told me you saved us, but that I needed to see how you did it. I couldn't believe the mess inside. Caiti was distraught. She was almost kidnapped, and the rest of us probably wouldn't have made it, even Griffon, since she killed one of them with an ax. The rest of the bloody thing was all you, though. And there you were, passed out on the floor, all bloodied up and naked. I put a blanket on you and we headed upstairs to see what happened when you woke up. It was Jack and Geoff's idea to barricade the downstairs, in case you, uh, yeah, again."  
  
Michael looked at him. "In case I what again?"  
  
"Turned into a...bear...again?"  
  
"What."  
  
"I know, I know how that sounds, believe me. I didn't understand what Ray and Jack and Griffon were going on about, but they saw it. You just barged in there with the sickle from the barn, but you immediately got taken down. Then you became a bear and mauled those guys, stomped their heads in, and chased down one of them who managed to run out the door. The animals in the barn were going mad, but I thought it was just because of the noise from the fight before. Griffon and Jack were scared stiff when you went back in the house, but you were really tired then. You pawed around at those bodies til you were sure they were dead and then you collapsed. Transformed right before their eyes. That's why they're all scared of you, they couldn't believe it was you. They're grateful, of course, we're all happy to be alive and alright, but now they've got a monster for a friend and don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I saw the claw marks on the floor, the bloody paw prints, the ripped up corpses, Ray's arm." Gavin kicked a stone out of his path.  
  
"Wait, what happened to Ray?"  
  
"You must've stepped on it or something, maybe by accident, but it was gnarly. That's why we hid upstairs."  
  
Michael's heart sank. This was a lot to take in, but on top of it all, his friends didn't trust him now? He was still him, it wasn't his fault.  
  
"You're still my boy, though, right? I don't know what I'm going to do, but maybe we can figure it out together?"  
  
"Well, like I said, there's the Guard back at the house. They were just riding through on patrol, checking up on the people who live on the outskirts, but then they saw the horses those convicts were riding. At first they thought Jack was harboring them, but then they saw the inside of the house. Now they want to talk to you, I guess."  
  
That wasn't the answer Michael wanted to hear. Gavin didn't trust him either, but he wouldn't let the hurt show on his face.  
  
"Are you alright, Michael?"  
  
"I'm fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published 5/27  
> 3,882 words


	3. An Honest Mistake

At first, when Meg and her team happened upon the scene, she was sure she had found the criminal hideout. The stolen horses out front were a dead give away. But, upon closer inspection, she noticed they weren't even tied up, and the house was lifeless. They moved in to infiltrate. Tyler opened the door while Mariel quickly moved in to do a sweep, her short sword held defensively in front of her.  
  
"Meg, you're going to want to see this," she called out.  
  
The scene was straight out of a disgusting, macabre play. "Oh what the hell, Mariel!" Meg squealed as she backed herself to the doorway.  
  
Mariel pointedly turned her eyes toward the barricade on the stairs to indicate that they had company. Meg motioned for her to investigate. Not seeing anything beyond the crude stack of tables and broken chairs, Mariel said, "Anyone home?"  
  
After a moment, fierce whispering and muted shuffling could be heard from upstairs. A man cleared his throat and replied, "Yeah, uh, who goes there?"  
  
Mariel stepped back so that Meg could speak. "Meg, Captain of the Guard. Jack, is that you?"  
  
"Holy shit. Meg, I'm so glad you're here!" Jack came down the stairs and began removing parts of the barricade so they could talk. "You wouldn't believe what happened last night."  
  
Meg only vaguely knew Jack and Caiti from previous patrols, but she didn't often stop by and chat. He was from across the border, which she tried not to hold against him.  
  
He attempted to tell her what happened, but kept getting details confused. A boy in a bloodied arm sling moved forward to soberly recount their ordeal last night instead. Meg was pretty sure he said his name was Ray.  
  
"Ray, where is your friend right now?" Meg asked.  
  
"He's across the way, cleaning himself up in the lake."  
  
"And who all is up there with you?"  
  
Jack spoke up. "My wife Caiti, my friend Geoff, his wife Griffon, Tina, Ray, Gavin, and myself."  
  
"Okay, well you guys sit tight. I'm going outside to have a talk with my crew."  
  
Once they were outside and out of hearing range, Mariel asked, "So this Michael kid, we gotta bring him in, right?"  
  
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," Tyler said.  
  
Meg agreed. "Ryan would love him."  
  
"We might get something out of it, if he's the real deal." Mariel jingled her coin pouch.  
  
"You saw those huge animal tracks, the mauled people who were all ripped up and shit. My bet's on this being legit." Tyler concluded.  
  
"Alright, I'll talk to him. It'll be a piece of cake." Meg rubbed her temples and neck. Riding for so long was really hard on her old brain injury, and she couldn't wait to head back to the capitol to turn in her report and go home.  
  
They heard the shuffling of furniture inside the house. Jack and company were coming out of hiding.  
  
"Think we should help?" Mariel asked.  
  
Meg and Tyler shrugged, then all three moved inside to assist.  
  
-  
  
Michael hated making rushed decisions. He never had the clarity or insight to properly look at a situation fast enough to be sure he was making the right choice. Many times, it didn't matter. Sometimes, the question of "what if..?" ate at him and took a while to get over. Now here was this purple haired chick asking him if he'd accept an invitation to court. He just wanted to go home with Gavin. That's all he's ever wanted, but he kept fucking it up for himself.  
  
"Can I...uh, think about it?" He asked, looking down at his hands in his lap.  
  
Meg looked apologetic. "I'm sorry dude. But, I really need to get back soon. These guys do, too." She motioned at Mariel and Tyler. "I know this is a big deal, but listen. You gotta know where I'm coming from. I've been on the road six days out of the week, for the past month. Any other time, I wouldn't mind hanging out for a few days, continuing to clean up this mess, if it gave you enough time to decide. You have to do what's right for you. But right now, I have to do what's right for not only me, but my crew, and of course for my boss. Please. Make this easier on me."  
  
Michael sighed. He was keenly aware she was waiting for his answer, and it really pained him to say yes. "How long will I be away?"  
  
Her eyes brightened up. "Oh, probably no longer than five days, maybe? It'll be about a day and a half to ride straight to the capitol, but we have a few feast days coming up that I totally forgot about until now. I'm sure you'll be requested to join those, then afterwards you should be free to leave!" Meg beamed at him.  
  
Five days or so wasn't bad. He'd see Gavin again soon enough. Or...maybe he could go with him. "Can Gavin come, too?"  
  
Meg turned around to look back at the house then turned back to him. Her tone was serious, but sympathetic. "Do you really think he'd want to come? The way Ray and Jack explained last night to me, I think they were really upset about it. Your part in it especially. Maybe it's best if you give your friends some time to pick up the pieces and put all this behind them."  
  
Michael nodded slowly and cleared his throat. "When do we leave?"  
  
"As soon as you're ready. Go ahead and tell them while I get a horse ready for you."  
  
The bodies from inside the house were all thrown in a pile out front, but the blood stains were still everywhere. Caiti and Jack were currently hard at work scrubbing in one corner, while Tina, Griffon, and Geoff handled another. Ray and Gavin were huddled up on the stairs, pale with illness. Ray, probably because of his arm, and Gavin...well. Because he was the same squeamish, whiny, messy asshole he'd always been.  
  
Michael half grinned at his boy before addressing the room. "Uh, guys? Hey, so I guess I'll be going now. Sorry I can't stick around to help, but.. you know." He shrugged apologetically.  
  
The others barely murmured their farewells, except for Geoff. Hangover and all, he stumbled over to him and wrapped him in a hug. "It was good seeing you buddy, you be safe out there, you hear?"  
  
"Geoff, should I actually go? I don't know what's going on." Michael confided.  
  
The gent held him out by the shoulders and sighed. His breath reeked of booze still. "Well, look at it this way. You'll get to meet a king. That's more than any of us jerk-offs have ever seen or done in our lives. He'll give you a handshake, maybe a nice chat, and then you'll get to tell that story for the rest of your life."  
  
"But, Geoff, I'm some kind of a monster. I turned into a bear and killed people."  
  
"Hey, don't get all torn up about that. You saved us, that's all that matters, okay? It's going to be alright. We'll sort out all that mess when you get back." Geoff nodded his head, making sure Michael heard him.  
  
It occurred to him that when he returned from the trip, he would, in all likelihood, go back home. Everyone had only planned to be there day or two, and they'd all go back to their own lives. Despite this, Geoff eased his mind a little.  
  
Michael nodded back. "Well, I guess I should get going then."  
  
"Okay, have a good trip." Geoff sincerely grinned at him, then turned away to go back to scrubbing.  
  
Michael was sure he saw him tearing up a little.  
  
-  
  
When Michael had gone, Gavin achingly got up and went to the door to see him and the Guard ride out of sight.  
  
The whole bloody thing from last night was easiest for him to accept, he supposed, because he hadn't seen it. His boy was still normal. He wasn't a bear or a monster or even a murderer. He was Gavin's lovely little Michael. With a huff, he sat back down on the stairs.  
  
Michael had left him yet again.  
  
Griffon, probably sensing his foul mood, asked him, "Why didn't you go with them?" Her and Geoff were his adopted parents. It was them he opened up to first about his feelings for Michael when he was just a boy.  
  
"Well he didn't ask now did he?" Gavin replied. He didn't try to hide his agitation.  
Griffon shook her head. "Did he have to ask?"  
  
Him and Michael were the only single former Achievement Hunters, it was embarrassing to even hint at their rocky relationship history. Gavin sourly crossed his arms and leaned back on the wall.  
  
_Did he have to ask?_ What crap. No, he shouldn't ever have to ask. Michael knew what an idiot Gavin was for him.  
  
Ray groaned, snapping Gavin out of his internal self-pity party. He gasped in pain and looked down at his arm in the sling.  
  
"Hey, Gavin, would you take a look at this, I think something's seriously wrong."  
  
Hesitantly, Gavin gently pulled the sling open so he could get a better look.  
  
Through the blood and shredded cloth, his eyes traveled up the limb until a curious sight held his attention.  
  
"Here, lean toward the light, if you can, Ray." Gavin moved in closer.  
  
He realized he was staring at a broken ulna that had managed to rise up through broken skin and smashed, bloody muscle.  
  
Without warning, he fell over backwards off of the stairs and ran outside. He coughed and gagged for several moments, bent over with his hands on his knees. When he regained his composure, he sat down in the dirt and took several deep breaths.  
  
That's when he noticed it.  
  
Sticking up out of the dirt was a glass marble on a broken string.  
  
-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published 5/29  
> 1,668 words


	4. Warm Insides

Several years ago  
  
When Gavin had turned 16, Geoff took him out for a special night of bevs. Geoff was a frequent patron of a low-key tavern where fans were unlikely to find him. Not that he minded meeting a fan any other time, but bar time was planning time. He came up with his greatest ideas over never ending servings of whiskey.  
  
"So, you know how I was arranged to marry my first wife, right?" Geoff asked.  
  
"Yeah," Gavin replied.  
  
"And that didn't work out so well." Geoff appeared to be looking at the wall, but was really looking past it as he reflected on his former life. "But something good came out of the divorce."  
  
"And that was Griffon."  
  
"Yeah, my very amazing and beautiful wife, Griffon, who I met the day the divorce was final." Geoff smiled and fidgeted. He took another gulp of whiskey. "So, Gavin."  
  
"Yeah?" the lad answered, sluggish with drink. He'd been sipping on mead the whole night.  
  
"Don't uh--" Geoff struggled to find the words. "Don't think I'll be match making for you. It's not something that worked for me, and I know you have your own plans."  
  
Gavin shifted nervously in his seat. "Well, you know Geoff. I was hoping you would make a match for me. Or at least help or something, I dunno."  
  
"What?" Really?" Geoff was puzzled before he realized. "Oh, you mean with Michael."  
  
Gavin turned red and became flustered. He didn't feel comfortable talking about this sort of thing with his adopted dad.  
  
"I tried that already."  
  
"You wot?" Gavin asked.  
  
"I talked to Shannon about matching you with Michael, but he said he couldn't do it. It's against the law or some dumb shit." Geoff snorted in irritation before taking another sip.  
  
The lad just stared in disbelief. He hadn't expected Geoff to try and make a match, but to hear that it was denied on grounds of legality was absurd. His heart beat furiously in his chest.  
  
Geoff sighed. "He said until Michael is given a name, which Shannon can't do because he has no title, no match can be made with him. I'm sorry, dude."  
  
Gavin would, in later years, learn in depth the weird and unfair legal roadblocks placed on orphan boys. Girls didn't have this problem since they were given the last name of whomever they married. For boys, they could get a name by being adopted and taken to an official who could arrange a civil hearing at the court. This is how Gavin became a Free. But if orphan boys reached adulthood still living in the care of the orphanage, there were laws protecting commonfolk from marrying nameless men. For the sake of goddamned record keeping, propriety, and outdated traditions, a person simply had to have a formally assigned and documented name. No nameless person is allowed to pursue a legal naming on their own, they must have a viable escort. Michael had never been adopted.  
  
"You alright, buddy?" Geoff asked.  
  
Glumly, Gavin stared into his drink before finishing off the rest of it.  
  
"Geoff, can we order another round?"  
  
-  
  
Presently  
  
In the deepest, darkest reaches of King Ryan's castle there came to reside a poor man in a long-abandoned underground well. He possessed neither home nor family and committed no crimes in his life on the streets.  
  
Naked and shivering from chill and fever, he cried silently in the bottom of the wide, moldy pit. A half spoiled drumstick sat untouched next to him, save for the flies and beetles that flocked to it. He stared at his companions and their feast, envying their freedom and thirst for life while he festered in his own squalor. In troubling times on the streets, he would sing himself a merry tune and fall asleep humming. Dreams of better days came easier with music to chase away the doubt and fear night brought. But he stopped singing after the first night in the Hole. He'd never so much as whistle or hum for the rest of his life, and he knew it. He'd been rotting for so long and he wasn't sure how much more of the King's insanity his broken body could bear.  
  
He couldn't even remember his actual name.  
  
Since the abandonment of the well and subsequent drainage centuries ago, a door was installed so one could access the bottom as though it were a room. Outside this door, the sound of the guards coming to attention told him that his captor had come to visit him once again. He trembled violently at the sound of the smooth, resonant voice that he now came to associate with pain. The sobs came heavier now, his distress now loud enough for Ryan to hear when he leaned against the bars in the door to look down upon his toy.  
  
"I take it you're not having a very fine day, my pet?"  
  
Tsking, the king turned to the wall next to him and retrieved the key for the door. The man's sobs were cut off as Ryan abruptly pulled him up by the metal ring that had dug sores into his neck. His freshly broken and disjointed fingers could no longer ease the burden of the collar and the weight of his meager body threatened to snap his skull's hold on his vertebrae. A broken neck would only further amuse the king anyway, he thought despondently as he was dragged out of the Hole and into the cellar.  
  
When he was in the room and stood up, he hobbled on his unbroken foot and resumed shivering. Ryan gently laid a hand on the man's shoulder and motioned for a red-haired servant girl waiting at the bottom of the stairs to approach. She brought him a thick, wool blanket and a lute. The king unfolded the blanket and wrapped up his naked prisoner in it then helped him over to a chair. Briefly, the man forgot his immense pain and looked up at the king in confusion. His liege was too preoccupied with tuning the lute to notice his wide, sunken eyes and slack jaw. Still tweaking the instrument, the king dismissed the servant and spoke again.  
  
"You know, I've been incredibly nice to you, my good sir." He paused to listen to the pitch of a string. "Today, I will be especially nice. I think you deserve it. You don't seem inclined to scream when we play together anymore, anyways. I wrote you a little song. I'm no troubadour, it's not very good, but I think it's rather fun."  
  
Ryan looked at the man expectantly, but a blank stare was his only reply.  
  
"Well." He cleared his throat and began the song, plucking a simple tune in major key.  
  
"Once there was a cow in the field  
No finer cow there was  
For this cow was the last cow  
Edgar, it's name t'was

Had anyone a penny  
He well might have been saved  
But none would think of him  
When t'was steak a hungry king craved

No one will weep for this cow  
They didn't know his name  
And really at the end of the day  
The streets will seem the same

The towns may well be full  
But not of the vagrant class  
For they're all gone, thanks to me  
With my dear Edgar, the Last"

Chuckling to himself, Ryan continued to pick at the lute absentmindedly. He looked up to gauge Edgar's reaction. Finding none, he set down the lute, walked over to the Bench, and motioned for Edgar to come to him. The feeble prisoner obeyed without pause, save for the achiness that had been with him for some time which made his movements slow and unsteady. His broken foot didn't make matters any easier. Ryan helped him lower himself onto the plank that had been the site of his previous tortures. When Edgar was strapped in, he closed his eyes. This would be his last unbearable session with the king.  
  
"I wonder how long you'll live if I harvest the organs now and then cut off your limbs until you bleed out. Or if I do it the other way around." The king mused out loud. "Hmm, maybe I'm putting too much thought into this."  
  
Still thinking about how to approach the matter, Ryan walked over to the work bench and grabbed a stack of clean metal pails, a butcher's knife, and a carving knife. He set the pails down on the floor, one under each limb and the rest off to the side.  
  
"I think I'll start with the guts. There probably isn't even that many that are suitable to eat now, but I'll have a look around. Any questions?"  
  
Edgar's shaking became more intense and quiet sobs escaped from him.  
  
"Shh shhh. There there, my pet. Don't make me restrain you."  
  
Ryan picked up the carving knife and made delicate incisions down and across Edgar's exposed abdomen. His victim writhed and cried out, but he pinned him down with his own body and continued to tear through dermis, muscle, and finally through the peritoneum. The blood flowing out reminded the king of the purpose of his pails, and he reached down, one at a time, placing them under Edgar. He tipped Edgar to one side so a little more blood gushed out into one of them. His pet seemed to have quieted himself. Ryan would have to work quicker. He grabbed the liver and pulled it up and back as far as it would go, found the beginning of the small intestines, and sliced it. Using the knife to cut away as much of the serosa attaching the intestines to everything else as he could, he pulled them out to sit them on Edgar's chest. Cutting them from the cecum and the remaining membranes, he plopped the mass into a pail. They were still twisted up in mesentery, but he was sure his cooks were capable enough to clean it up themselves.  
  
"Lindsay!" Ryan yelled.  
  
The servant girl stepped out of the shadows of the stairway. "Yes, my lord."  
  
"Have someone run these guts up to the kitchen. Tell Jordan and Blaine to prepare them for sausage, I'll have blood and other ingredients up as I go."  
  
The girl's face paled, and the stench almost made her gag.  
  
"Yes, my lord."  
  
She grabbed the pail and quickly exited. After handing off the guts to another servant, she dry-heaved quietly in the safety of the stairwell.  
  
The king examined the situation. Edgar was barely clinging to consciousness, and Ryan wasn't particularly pleased with the fuss his pet had not even managed to raise. "Sorry, I got to you so late, you were already gone before I could start. So much for all the fun I planned." Sighing at his own mistake, the king slit Edgar's throat and drained the blood into a pail. With annoyance and disdain he watched the life drain out of his pet's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published 5/30  
> 1,830 words


	5. When the Sun Hits

Michael shivered quietly in the dark. His new companions could only spare him a tattered blanket. Though he was snuggled up close to the embers of last night's fire, it's waning warmth offered little comfort.  
  
He closed his eyes for the hundredth time and tried to still himself. Breathing in slowly, he drew in cold, dewy air. The smell of Gavin's hair came to him faintly. The giddiness of his smile danced behind Michael's eyelids, and he couldn't stop thinking of hugging his boy.  
  
He also couldn't get over the stinging regret of not apologizing to Ray for what he did to his arm. Even if he were warm in bed at home, he would still be awake, wishing he could redo it. The way he left was selfish. He very much wanted them all to know how sorry he was for the trouble.  
  
The stars slowly gave way to early morning light. He had only slept a few times throughout the night while the rest of the Guard slept seemingly comfortable on camping mats with thick, wool blankets. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to come, he thought. He'd never ridden a horse before, and yesterday's ride did a number on his back and legs. He could always just walk away while everyone else slept. Who was stopping him from leaving? It had only been a day, how hard could it be to just walk the way they came?  
Stiffly, he flipped over to lay on his other side. Staring at him from several feet away, was Meg.  
  
"Can't sleep either?" She whispered.  
  
"Yeah, it's too cold," Michael replied.  
  
"Yeah, sorry about that. It's about time to get up and going anyway. Want to help break camp?"  
  
Michael answered by getting up and stretching. Likewise, Meg was up and clapping her hands to simultaneously get the blood flowing and wake up the other two. Michael had only his blanket to roll up and his own rucksack to sling over his shoulder. He shuffled closer to Tyler. "Would you like some help, sir?"  
  
"Ah, thanks man," he said through a wide yawn, still sitting in his bed. "I'm gettin' too old for this camping nonsense. Say you roll up my sleeping crap, and I'll get breakfast goin', sound good?"  
  
"Alright." Michael liked this guy. He was definitely the most friendly of the crew. Meg was nice, too, but there was something off about her that he couldn't put his finger on. He wasn't sure about Mariel.  
  
By the time the food was ready to serve, the sun had risen up over the crest of mountains to the east. Reds and pinks smeared across the clouds on the horizon.  
"You guys see sunrises like this all the time?" Michael asked.  
  
The grizzled man nodded his head as he poured porridge into a tin cup and handed it to Michael. Michael sat down a little ways away from the fire. He was still cold, but didn't want to get under foot when the others came for their share. They were busy tending the horses when Tyler banged the ladle on the pot to call them to breakfast.  
  
Meg sat next to him with her bowl.  
  
"So, how're you holding up, still sore?" She asked.  
  
"Oh, yeah. I can barely move. Sucks sleeping on the ground, too," he said through a mouthful of gruel.  
  
"Yeah, but you'll be in a warm bed tonight, we made good time yesterday. We should actually get there in time for dinner."  
  
Michael sat in silence, basking in the faint warmness of the sunrise. Him and Gavin should have followed Geoff and everyone else when they moved here. He'd never considered that all places weren't the same after all. Country living seemed tranquil.  
  
He looked down at his empty cup and back up at the pot by the fire.  
  
"You can go get seconds, if you want. Everyone eats until the pot's empty, we can't take the leftovers with us." Meg said.  
  
"Thanks!" He wasted no time grabbing more. He realized he hadn't eaten very much since the party.  
  
-  
  
Gavin looked up at the sky in the direction where Michael had disappeared from sight the day before and sighed. He was hungry but didn't want to eat.  
  
"Hey Gavin, did you want to take more food home with you?" Jack asked quietly.  
  
Gavin started shuffling his belongings around in his rucksack and answered without looking up. "Nah, I have enough."  
  
"Well, we can't eat all of the leftovers, it'll go bad before then. Here, take some of this cordial with you, too."  
  
"Cheers, Jack." Gavin stuffed the bottle next to his clothes and placed a parcel of cured ham on top. He stood up and double checked himself for anything he might have forgotten.  
  
"Tell the others I said goodbye, would you?"  
  
"Sure thing, man," Jack replied. He squeezed Gavin in a long embrace. "Oh, and thank Caleb for the money if you get a chance. Me and Caiti really appreciate it."  
  
Gavin nodded. "Yeah, I will if I see him. Take care."  
  
"You, too."  
  
-  
  
Michael thought they were finally done riding when they arrived at the capitol, but, as it turned out, His Majesty King James didn't technically live there. His castle was another couple miles outside the city on a secluded hillside over looking meadows and ponds. The whole thing was very scenic, and the cloudy sunset created the perfect backdrop. He would remember to draw a little sketch of it to show Gavin when he got home. Maybe Meg would know where he could get some spare parchment and charcoal.  
  
Entering the castle grounds was no parade, though some groundskeepers and servants were stringing up some kind of decoration around the gate and entryways. Puzzled, Michael turned to Mariel riding next to him. "What's the decoration for?"  
  
"Hmm?" She was tired. "Oh. We missed the End of Summer feast today but tomorrow is the Beginning of Fall feast. That's the bigger holiday anyway, so everyone decorates for it the night before. Didn't you see them putting up stuff in town?"  
  
Michael shrugged. "I thought that's just what people did here. Like it was an everyday thing or whatever. No one back home has a Fall feast."  
  
"Ah, well it's mostly a harvest thing, so I guess it's not a common celebration in big cities."  
  
They stopped just outside of the main entry. Meg slid off her horse and the others followed. Michael stiffly clambered off of his and joined the crew gathered around their captain.  
  
"Okay guys, good ride. After you get the horses taken care of you're free for the night. Get some good rest. Michael, don't worry about your horse, come with me."  
  
The front entrance to the castle, a massive, ornate, metal door, was propped open and they both slipped inside. There was a bustle of servants adorning the hall with garlands of leaves, berries, and ornaments. Michael tried to keep up with Meg, who giddily skipped ahead.  
  
"You guys are doing a really good job, oh my goodness!" She announced.,  
  
He wanted to hurry after her, but he kept staring up and around him. Something hit the back of his head and fell to the ground with a loud clatter.  
  
"I'm so sorry, sir!" A girl with red hair grabbed Michael to make sure his head wasn't bleeding.  
  
"No, it's fine, I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going," Michael replied and bent down to help pick up the fruit that fell out of the huge silver dish.  
  
"Michael, come on!" Meg called after him.  
  
"Sorry." Michael rushed after the Captain. When he was mostly caught up, he turned around to look at the girl still picking up fruit. She was staring back at him in dismay.  
  
At last they reached the end of the hall, but when they rounded the corner, Meg started bounding up a massive staircase to the second floor. Michael's shoulders slumped. Sighing, he trudged up the stairs after her. At the top stood a man in simple brown garb in front of a massive, unlit fireplace.  
  
"Ma'am," he politely addressed Meg, snapping to attention and saluting.  
  
"That's Captain to you, Kdin. Where is he?"  
  
"My apologies, Captain Ma'am. I believe he's in his office going over budget business with--"  
  
"Okay thank you!" Meg turned away, striding down the corridor to the right. Michael stumbled trying to follow her and get another look at Kdin at the same time. The man glanced at him with a smirk just as they turned another corner. Two corridors later and finally they arrived at...a sitting room.  
  
"Wait here, I'll be right back." She shut the door as soon as she ushered him inside.  
  
Michael looked around. The ceilings were incredibly tall, it gave him the feeling of being in a well. Another huge, unlit fireplace took up most of one wall with chairs covered in soft furs surrounding it. Above the mantle and spread out across all of the walls were dozens of antler racks. Spread out on the floor before him was a bear rug, which made him uncomfortable. Stepping around it, he eased into a chair. Slowly, he could feel himself sink into the soft fur and drift off to sleep.  
  
-  
  
In the distance, Michael thought he heard screaming and looked around. The room was still the same--except for the stuffed and mounted bear standing in the corner behind him, which he had failed to notice earlier. How much earlier? How long had he slept? Maybe that girl hit his head harder than he thought but when he rubbed the sore spot in his scalp, no lump could be felt. Sighing, he got up and crossed the room towards the creature, carefully avoiding the bear rug on the floor.  
  
Standing eye to stomach with the stuffed monster, he hesitantly reached out a hand to touch its fur. The bear must have been very recently killed, since the fur still felt clean and soft. And warm? Michael pushed his hand into the flesh only to realize too late that this wasn't a stuffed bear. Gasping, he jumped backwards just as the beast came to life, letting out a forceful snort and landing down on all fours. Stunned, he remained on the floor, eyes wide and heart pounding. The bear looked down at him aggressively for a moment before letting out a burst of laughter. In a blink, the bear became the man Meg had called Kdin, who continued to chuckle at his own trick.  
  
"You should see your face!"  
  
Michael got up from the floor and frowned sourly. "You' fucking troll." He wanted to punch this guy, but first he had questions. "What are you anyway, like, are you...like me?"  
  
"Not even close," Kdin scoffed. "I'm sooo much more powerful and in control than whatever you are."  
  
"What the fuck does that mean?" Michael readied his fists.  
  
Kdin smiled with mischief. "It doesn't really matter, since you'll be--"  
  
The door opened and a man in dark blue robes carrying a tea tray stepped in. Sternly, he stared across the room at the two. "You, boy, get out."  
  
"As you wish, my lord." Kdin's expression became subservient. He bowed to the other man and left the room.  
  
"Sorry about my apprentice, Michael. He can be very rude sometimes," the stranger said, closing the door behind him. "Tea?"  
  
Michael stood still. So much was happening, he didn't know where to begin with this guy.  
  
"I'll just set this down then." The man set the tray on a table and took a chair. "Please, sit."  
  
He couldn't place it, but something about this man seemed warm, which put him at ease a little. Maybe it was his neatly arranged, long, brown hair, or the way the light caught his candy-blue eyes. His posture was so casual and yet he held an air of self confidence. Obediently, Michael took a seat.  
  
The man poured them both a cup. "I'm Ryan's chancellor and personal adviser, Jon. Meg's told us your name is Michael. Tea?"  
  
Michael didn't know what he was supposed to say, so he just smiled weakly and shrugged. Jon poured him a cup and set it closer to him on the table.  
  
"May I ask, have you ever been summoned to court before?" Jon asked as he poured his own cup.  
  
"No, my town is too far from our capitol. I've never even seen a castle or traveled really."  
  
Jon smiled. "Well, if you're nervous, I understand. You're from Rook?"  
  
Michael nodded.  
  
They sat in uncomfortable silence before Jon spoke again. "While we wait, would you like your fortune read? It's a tradition usually reserved for tomorrow, but I see no harm in doing one now."  
  
"Uh, sure? I've never had my fortune read either."  
  
"Great!" Jon perked up. "I brought my stuff for it anyway, here." He dug small, marked animal bones out of his pocket and set them on the tray next to the teapot.  
  
Michael's brow furrowed slightly. "What do those symbols mean?"  
  
"I'll explain after you toss. Just pick them all up, cast them onto the tray, and I'll read it for you." Jon's eyes were eager, almost too much so.  
  
Michael did as he was told, and Jon leaned over the bones to examine them.  
  
"Okay, so you see how this bone only has one symbol facing up? That sign means 'giant' or 'big', and these two clustered together; that's a good sign which represents the renewal of a friendship. This one by itself in this position means coldness, generally a bad sign. Over all, not a terrible fortune. I'm sure it's because you're so tired and out of your depth that you got a so-so reading. We can always try again tomorrow if you'd like."  
  
Michael pointed to the other bones. "What about these ones, you didn't read them."  
  
Jon scooped them all up and put them back in his pocket. "Those don't really mean anything, so I didn't bother with them."  
  
"But, how do you know they don't mean anything?" Michael persisted.  
  
"Because I was taught how to read bones, trust me. I also learned how to spot cursed people, too." Jon let the hint of a smile curl the corners of his mouth.  
  
Michael's eyes narrowed. "Why would you bring that up?"  
  
"No reason. Tell me, Michael. Were you an orphan?"  
  
Michael gave no reaction. Jon continued. "Did you never wonder why you turned into a bear that night? Did you think that just randomly happened to people?"  
  
"I don't want to talk about that." Michael clenched his jaw.  
  
Jon stood up and bowed in mock surrender. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. Please, if you'll follow me, I think His Majesty is ready to receive you now."  
  
"Fuckin' finally," Michael muttered. He thought the office would be somewhat close to the sitting room, or at least in the same corridor. Jon led him through a few more corridors and into another wing of the castle entirely. In the amount of time it took for them to get there, Michael had tried to memorize the path and failed. A building this size would have taken more than a hundred lifetimes to build, and he was grateful he never worked on anything much bigger than houses and inns.  
  
"Admiring the size of the estate?" Jon asked.  
  
"It's uh.. it's something."  
  
They reached an intricately carved wooden door way. Two darkwood pillars covered in vine motifs held up a massive semi circle archway with an engraved scene of men fighting a massive dragon. At the bottom, was an inscription in a language Michael didn't know.  
  
Jon knocked on the door once before stepping inside the office. Michael followed slowly, still trying to examine the detail of the woodwork. Jon grabbed him and motioned for him to bow upon stepping into the room.  
  
"Your Majesty, if I may, I present to you your guest, Michael, family name unknown, birth place unknown, who hails from the town of Rook and is a subject under King Joel Heyman of Austinia. He has been brought before you under peaceful terms. What say you?"  
  
"I, King James Ryan Haywood of Corpus, second born of King and Queen Haywood, say this pleases me. You may approach," a deep voiced man replied.  
  
Jon elbowed Michael, meaning for him to quit bowing. Nervously, Michael raised his head. The man before him, who stood behind a large ornate desk, was taller and more rugged than he expected. His attire was entirely casual. His hair was covered with a floppy, knit hat, and he wore a loose, hooded jacket over a plain smock and simple trousers. His beard was kept neat and trimmed, and his eyes shown brightly with apparent delight.  
  
"Welcome to to my abode, Michael." The king gestured to a chair in front of the desk. "Please, sit."  
  
Michael thanked him and sat down.  
  
"Don't let the formal introduction intimidate you, it's just a tradition we keep here. And my relaxed appearance is not meant to be seen by guests normally." Ryan sat down in his own chair and continued. "So, Jon tells me you have no connections and no history. It's a shame that's become more common since the war ended."  
  
Michael cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. I was an orphan growing up, but my employer formally gave me the name Jones a couple years ago when I started working for a sub company he owns. He said it made filling out paperwork easier on the foreman."  
  
"I make it my business to know anyone with a title. Who is your boss?" The king smiled warmly.  
  
"Archduke Michael Burns, your majesty."  
  
"Ah, Burnie. Him and his family have actually been guests of mine a few times. He usually visits around late fall for our barbecue festival. When you return home, please pass on my regards, if you happen to see him." Ryan turned to his papers to straighten them before picking up a page and examining it. "Now, my Captain spoke with me just before you, and she has regaled me with a highly unusual situation you found yourself in a couple days ago. I won't go through it now, as I'm sure you're exhausted from your travels, and there'll be ample opportunity to tell me about it tomorrow. But, if you would, if it isn't too much to ask, could you possibly...transform now, at will?"  
  
"I--I don't think so," Michael replied. "It just sort of happened on its own that night. I would actually prefer to never do that again, if I can help it."  
  
"No worries, I was only curious." Ryan leaned back in his chair. "I do appreciate that you stopped the fugitives though. Set loose on the countryside, I was sure they would terrorize the good people out there. Your friends are lucky to have had you protecting them."  
  
"Thank you, your majesty."  
  
The king shook his head. "No, just 'Ryan' is fine. You're my honored guest after all and I'd like to keep things friendly between us. I'm sure your room is prepared by now, so I welcome you to stay for a few days. Our First of Fall banquet is tomorrow, so we'll have you outfitted in more proper attire in the morning." Ryan motioned at Jon. "Please have someone escort Michael to his room."  
  
Jon assisted Michael out of his chair and motioned for him to bow again.  
  
"Have a good rest," Ryan said cheerily.  
  
"Uh, you too," Michael replied. He felt so awkward right now and he hated it.  
  
Jon led him out into the hallway where Kdin stood at attention.  
  
"Escort our guest to his room." Jon snapped.  
  
"As you wish, my lord." Kdin bowed until Jon had walked back into the office and closed the door. His blank expression unchanging, he started walking down the corridor. Michael followed him.  
  
"So, tomorrow there's a feast, huh?" Michael asked.  
  
Kdin didn't respond.  
  
Peeved, Michael didn't attempt anymore small talk. After traversing across the castle, they finally came to a hallway with bedrooms branching off of it. Kdin unlocked a door and let Michael in. It was a modest room lit by a single oil lamp, but still it was much fancier than any place Michael had ever stayed. A darkwood four poster bed topped with more than enough blankets occupied most of the space with a fur-draped chaise lounge at the foot of it. A small tub and washbasin were hidden behind an elegantly painted partition screen in the corner. Massive velvet curtains towered against the far wall, hiding a presumably large window.  
  
"Do you require a bath?" Kdin asked from the doorway.  
  
Michael hadn't realized he was still there and jumped a little. "Uh, no thanks. I'm pretty tired," he replied.  
  
Kdin bowed and closed the door behind him. Fatigue from the long journey and lack of decent sleep overwhelmed Michael then. He removed his clothes and slipped under the heavy pile of blankets on the down mattress. Never before had he slept in such luxury.  
  
-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published 6/2  
> 3,515 words


	6. Twilight at Carbon Lake

Michael awoke to a knock on his door.  
  
The girl who ran into him last night crept in. Nervously, she cleared her throat before asking, "Uh, sir?" Michael perked his head up. "Good morning. Would you be interested in a bath today?"  
  
Michael groaned and rubbed his eyes. They burned.  
  
"Um," he said, knuckles still jammed into his eyes. "Yeah, I guess."  
  
"Ok, cool, because I already brought the water up." She crossed the room and opened the drapes. Michael looked up through half open eyes.  
  
"Why are the curtains so big if the windows are so tiny?" he asked.  
  
She looked at him, almost incredulous. "Uh, I don't know, sir. I'm the ewerer, like, I just run baths and help out with stuff." She started gathering buckets of steaming water outside the door and bringing them in.  
  
Michael stayed sitting in bed, since he didn't know what else to do. "So, you like, live here to work and stuff?"  
  
"Yeah. There's a ton of people that work here." She started dumping the buckets of water into the tub behind the screen. "My name's Lindsay, by the way."  
  
"Oh, I'm Michael."  
  
"Is your head ok? From last night? I'm really sorry about that, by the way, I wasn't watching where I was going."  
  
He felt for the sore spot through his hair. "No, it's fine. I wasn't watching out either, and I wasn't even carrying anything, so it's my fault, really."  
  
"Well, I still feel bad. Your bath's ready, did you need...uh...anything else?" She shifted nervously.  
  
"No thanks. I'm good, I'm totally capable of bathing myself." He got out of bed and went behind the screen. "Um, you can go now, I really don't need your help."  
  
Lindsay still stood where she was, halfway to the door.  
  
"I, uh--" She fidgeted. "I was wondering if I could hang out in here with you. You seem cool."  
  
Michael had finished undressing, and tested the water. It was still hot, so he held off on getting in right away. "Sure, I guess."  
  
"Thank you!" He heard her settle onto the chaise lounge. "I like your tattoos, by the way."  
  
"Oh, thanks. Are you skipping out on work right now?" he asked.  
  
"Well, technically no. I can just say I was assisting you. That's a common enough excuse."  
  
"Do people seriously not bathe themselves?" Michael scoffed.  
  
She hesitated. "Are you...do you know what I mean by 'assist'?"  
  
"What am I not getting?" he asked.  
  
"Oh god, this is awkward. No take backs, you already declined the offer, but I meant sexual stuff. Like hand jobs and stuff."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
They were quiet for a moment.  
  
"Do people really ask you for that?" Michael asked.  
  
"Occasionally."  
  
"That sucks."  
  
"It does, but...it could be worse."  
  
Michael began to slowly climb into the bath.  
  
Lindsay switched topics. "So where are you from?"

-

After the bath, which was long and just the fixer for Michael's sore muscles, Lindsay left him to get dressed. She said she'd alert kitchen staff to make him something to eat, since he missed breakfast. While he was out, she'd empty the tub and take care of his room.  
  
Before he put his shirt on, he felt his neck for the marble he'd gotten a few days before. He didn't realize until then that it was gone. He ran over to his rucksack and rummaged through it. It was gone. Shrugging, he finished dressing and headed out to find the kitchen.  
  
Lindsay had given him directions. Fuck if he was going to remember all that. He'd just find his way back to the hall and see if he couldn't find someone along the way to guide him.

-

After Michael's breakfast, which was light because the kitchen was prepping for the feast later, Jon found him and offered to give him a tour of the estate. Michael was weary of him, not just because of last night, but also because of what Lindsay had said. Jon didn't like people, generally. There was only a select few he genuinely felt even remote interest for, but his true fondness was for dogs. He had a small trained dog named Bella who he dedicated most of his free time to. She told him to ask about Bella to gain what little favor he could from the man. Michael would need it.  
  
"I'll lead you outside, since really, there isn't much to see inside the castle," Jon said indifferently.  
  
"Oh, I actually kind of wanted to see inside as well." Michael scratched his head, which was still wet from his bath. "I work in construction, and I'm curious to see the architecture. If you don't mind."  
  
Jon sighed. "Fine."  
  
They walked around forever. In some places, torches were needed. Those parts were not in regular use and had no windows. As far as Michael could see, the designs of the castle were boring. It was so old, the engineering was mostly utilitarian in nature. The only cool places were the new library and the original tower that overlooked everything. He met a guard up there who told him about the strategic placement of the tower, and how the castle was essentially built around it.  
  
Before they headed outside, they passed by a hallway that branched off. At the very end of it were two, closed darkwood doors with splashes of red paint. Candles lined the floor in front of the entrance, all of them lit.  
  
"What's the deal with that place?" Michael asked.  
  
"Oh, that wing is condemned. There was an accident years ago which caused some of the floors to cave in. No one is allowed in, because they might get buried alive."  
  
"What was in it?"  
  
"I believe it was originally the living quarters of the royal family. Ryan lost his father and older brother in the collapse. His mother had died of illness long before that. When it was just him and his younger brother left, his brother stole the heirloom crown and ran away. Presumably, he's still alive somewhere, but we have no idea."

-

At the feast, guests from all over the country, and from other kingdoms filed in. Jon announced them, in the formal way Michael had been introduced, as they strode into the hall, bowing to Ryan and giving him a nod for the invitation. The hall was adorned with large crimson banners, red and orange leaf garlands, and hundreds of small lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The effect was warm and amicable. Servants seated guests at their assigned tables, offering them wine and cheese.  
  
Michael stood all the way at the front of the hall, at the king's table, which was perpendicular to the other tables, and had seats only on one side facing the room. He would be looking out over everyone, as he was placed in the right hand seat to Ryan, the place of honor.  
  
He fidgeted.  
  
Off to the side, in a corner, were several musicians playing light and spirited music. The noise of the room increased as more seats were filled. Michael noticed the Guard slip in from a side corridor and seat themselves at a table, laughing and talking animatedly. He only recognized Meg, Mariel, and Tyler among them.  
  
Finally, everyone was in their proper place, and Ryan and Jon walked up the table. Ryan looked so different from the previous night. Black heeled shoes adorned his feet, the rest of him was clad in a plaid kilt, tweed jacket, tartan, all draped over with a massive fur-trimmed, red mantle, which made his movements slow but deliberate. He was every bit the image of a king now, as Michael had originally expected. The only thing missing was the crown.  
  
The music slowed to a stop. Ryan nodded to Michael, and Jon leaned over behind him to motion for him to bow. Ryan turned to the room and everyone stood up. A servant quickly came up to their table to fill their goblets with wine, which Ryan raised in a toast. Everyone else followed his lead.  
  
"Friends. Family. Honored guests all. We stand here tonight to celebrate the beginning of Fall, the most hallowed season. It brings us the fruits of our year's labor, as it brings us closer to one another. I'll cut this short so we can eat, I'm sure you're all waiting for the food anyway. I just want to dedicate this feast to my older brother, Gray, who was lost long before his time; and to my parents, who were also gone too soon from this world. I also wanted to say a word about my youngest brother, because it is for him I have this unfilled seat at my table." he gestured to the empty seat at the end of their table.  
  
"Nothing is more heartrending than a brother who rejects familial love, respect, and protection in the pursuit of material wealth. I address this to you all in hopes it somehow reaches my dear Kerian's ears. After so much time, if he is out there, I want him to know, as in years previous, that everything is forgiven and no harm shall come to him. I'll gladly give anything for him to come home safely because we are the only family we have left. If I were to turn my back on him as he has turned his on me, it would only increase the tragedy that has befallen our house." He lifted his goblet and drank, and everyone followed suit. A moment of silence was held before a smile returned to Ryan's face.  
  
"Let's eat!"  
  
As soon as he said this, a stream of servants flowed out from both side corridors of the hall, each carrying massive trays of steaming hot food. The guests clapped with approval, and cheers of "here here!" could be heard. The music started up again.  
  
Michael's stomach growled. Their table was served last.  
  
Plates of various roasted meats covered in herbs, fruit sauces, and embellished with green beans, eggplant, peas, and potatoes were placed in front of them. Michael had never had fruit and meat together, but the aroma was the most enticing he'd ever smelled. Still food came; bowls of fluffy dinner rolls, fruit and meat pies, gravy boats, and a strange gelatin dish.  
  
After everyone had sated their immediate hunger, the room grew loud once more with boisterous laughter and talking.  
  
Ryan turned to Michael. "So how is the food?"  
  
Michael replied through a mouthful, "Ugh, it's delicious, are you kidding me? I can't stop fucking eating, this is great!"  
  
"I'm glad to hear it." He wiped crumbs and food off of his mouth before continuing. "Michael, here you are, an honored guest at my table, yet I know next to nothing about you. That's unheard of. Why don't you tell me your story? I'd like to know more about you."  
  
"What do you wanna know?" Michael swallowed his food and washed it down with wine. "I ask, because I'll talk your goddamn ear off if you let me."  
  
"Let's start with what you do."  
  
"I'm in construction, it's not very exciting."  
  
"And were you always in construction?" Ryan asked.  
  
"No, actually. I had no plans to go into it, since I used to work at a game shop run by my friends, Geoff and Jack."  
  
"You sold games? Cards and such?"  
  
"No, actually. Well, originally they did, when it was only the two of them. But they started goofing around and playing made-up stuff with the customers, mostly games of skill, shooting things with trick shots, shit like that. They drew a following of people who wanted to play with them, they'd have game nights and marathons. Me, Ray, and Gavin were drawn to these, as well as others from the orphanage. Eventually we got hired, along with a kid named Caleb. It was a lot of fun, we got a bigger place and had enough room for a lot of people to come watch, but we had to start charging a fee at the door, that's how we could continue doing all that. After a few years, I guess we flew too close to the sun, because some official reported us, even though no one else had a problem with it. Geoff was cited with illegal gambling charges. He was in court for a while, but we couldn't do shit about it. So, I got a real job through a connection, Gavin stayed behind while everyone else bailed basically."  
  
"And Jack was the friend you were staying with a few nights ago?" He seemed genuinely interested in all of it, leaning in as if he might miss something.  
  
"Yeah. Him and Caiti got married and became farmers. Geoff was there, he makes booze and fishes now, and I think Griffon still carves wood. Caleb works in the capitol, same with Matt and Jeremy, who we didn't even get to hire before we closed."  
  
"And what about Ray, where is he now?"  
  
"I have no goddamn clue, dude fucked off pretty fast honestly." Michael took a sip of wine.  
  
"Well, that's a shame you had to give up doing what you loved and being with people you liked, I assume."  
  
"Well yeah. We worked with each other for years. It was hard at first. Fans kept finding me in the street or at work and asking about all of that, and it got..."  
  
"Annoying?"  
  
"No, it just became kind of a downer, like there I was, not washed up, but that part of my life was over and I was trying to move on. Everyone wouldn't let it go."  
  
"Well, I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable by talking about it."  
  
Michael shrugged. "Nah, I've been over it for years."  
  
The two continued to chat until the time of the evening for stories and entertainment came about. Anyone who had a joke or funny story about something that happened to them in the past year were invited to stand up and share with everyone. At one point Meg and Mariel somehow convinced Tyler to dress up and read a smut scene with Ryan. It was hysterical. Everyone was in stitches, especially the girls.  
  
"'--he said softly, pressing himself into my depths!'" Tyler sang out in strained falsetto.  
  
"'Mine alone, now and forever. Mine whether ye will it...or no,'" Ryan said, his voice accented to hilarious effect.  
  
Their script seemed to go on forever, but it kept getting better and better. After the two ended their scene, they stared at each other with unsure expressions.  
  
"We..we can still be friends after this, right?" Ryan asked.  
  
The crowd cheered and whooped.  
  
"Yeah, we can," Tyler replied as he adjusted his wig.  
  
At some point during the festivities, Michael figured he had had too much to drink. He usually became louder and more obnoxious when he was blacking out but he found himself slowly drooping. He sat back in his chair, his head felt heavy. He swayed forward and plopped down onto the table, knocking over his goblet, which had been recently refilled.  
  
"Whoa, looks like someone's had too much fun." Jon said from nearby. A few people who had heard laughed.  
  
"Jon, would you be so kind as to ensure he gets back to his room?" Ryan asked.  
  
"My pleasure." 

-

Michael couldn't help but notice the similarities between waking up then and waking up at Jack's house. His head was going to split open. He realized he was laying in a small puddle of his own drool and wiped it away. The cold stone beneath him told him he was on the floor.  
  
Something was wrong about that.  
  
Cautiously, he sat up and adjusted his glasses. There were candles lit next to him, but other than that, he was surrounded by utter darkness.  
  
"Hello?" He called out. Nausea rose up from his stomach. He bent over and put a finger down his throat. After retching onto the floor, he felt well enough to stand.  
  
He looked around. He was in front of the locked doors to the condemned wing him and Jon had passed by earlier. What the fuck?  
  
Michael walked unsteadily away, toward the main corridor to find his way back to his room. He wasn't sure where it'd be, but if he needed to, he could always yell until someone heard him.  
  
He hadn't walked more than several steps when a cold chill flowed through him, from his neck down his spine. He got the feeling of something lurking just around the corner, it waited for him to come closer. He shuddered at the thought. Where had it come from?  
  
The unmistakable sound of doors unlocking stopped him. He looked back. The abandoned wing opened up, seemingly of its own accord.  
  
Clearing his throat and wiping cold sweat off of his brow, Michael hesitantly made his way toward the doors. Up to that point, the castle had a warm and comfortable ambient temperature, but now felt as though he had walked into the dead of winter.  
  
He took a candle from the floor and used it to light his way. A faint, pungent smell wafted around him, but he silently rushed forward, almost growing frantic thinking that something really was behind him.  
  
Once he was a good ways from the entrance, he hid behind a pillar. Crouching, he tried to control his breathing, stilling himself. A noise caught his attention. Michael strained to hear distant sounds of someone rummaging deep within this part of the castle. Maybe someone was back there who could help him find his way back to his room, he thought optimistically. Everything honestly pointed to his situation being a scene from a horror story, but he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't go back, not alone. An evil thing was lurking in the darkness of that hallway, he could still feel it there.  
  
Stealing himself, he moved further into the putrid gloom. As he was drawn closer to the mystery person in the forbidden ruin, the stench of the place grew stronger. Chicken bones and other rotten food scraps littered the floor. Rats scurried about, unafraid of his presence.  
  
When Michael had gotten about as near to the source of the noises as he dared, he crouched behind a pile of rubble, trying to find a way to hide the light from the candle. Down the hallway, a single lit torch dimly illuminated the area. He tossed a pebble toward the door where the sounds echoed from and held his breath.  
  
A grunt of surprise came from within the room. The pale, gaunt head of a disfigured creature jutted out into the hallway, sniffing. A long, skeletal, clawed hand gripped the door frame as the thing moved uncertainly out into the open. It could have been a person once, perhaps. It was shaped very similarly to one, like a human skeleton with loose, sickly, pale skin draped over it. It was marred by open, red sores, some of them poorly stitched and half ripped. A thick metal collar had dug a disgustingly deep black canyon in the back of its neck, which looked infected with maggots. One of its legs were bent and the foot was twisted the wrong way, but it seemed to put weight on it.  
  
Michael tore his eyes off of the creature and rested his head on the pile of stone next to him. The darkness was closing in on him, as though he had walked into a tomb. His hands were shaking, and glancing down at them alarmed him more than the monster had. His finger nails had grown longer, sharper, and curved. They were black. Both hands had become enormous, and fur slowly grew up out of the skin. Fuck, not now, he pleaded with himself. He felt his shoes become tighter, until they felt like they were going to bust open.  
  
He looked back up at his unknowing companion, who was still alert and scanning the area. It had no nose, but it made sniffing motions all the same.  
  
Michael picked up another pebble and tossed it past the thing. Immediately, it turned it's head away from him, and ambled off down the hallway. Mildly relieved, he slowly got up, candle in hand, and turned around to get the fuck out of there.  
  
A loose rock from the pile he'd been hiding behind tumbled down with a clatter that rang out clearly. Fucking great. Michael dropped the candle and froze in place, listening for the shambling of the creature behind him, which might indicated if it'd heard anything. Thunderous, inhuman roaring pierced the silence. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Michael ran.  
  
He could hear the rattle of chains behind him, as well as grunting and snarling. If some part of him could have controlled himself moments earlier, that was lost now, as he felt himself shift mid stride onto all fours. He had yet again become a monster of his own. At least in this form, he could outrun anything.  
  
He stumbled over loose stones he couldn't see, but soon he was upon the exit from this hell. To his surprise, guards had opened the doors wide for him.  
  
"This way! Over here!" They cried.  
  
He burst past them, headlong into a net at the end of the corridor he couldn't see until it was too late.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published 6/7  
> 3,559 words  
> 


	7. Your Head is on Fire

Gavin closed his shutters for the night. Sighing, he lit a candle and sat on the edge of his bed and put his head in his hands.  
  
For days now, after work he'd been to Michael's apartment to check if he had returned. The land-lady would probably never believe he'd been summoned to court in another country, but he gathered the courage and asked if she was willing to wait for him to return instead of evicting him. She said he wasn't responsible for rent, it was paid for him by the company he worked for. So at least there was one less thing to worry about.  
  
He got up and walked with the candle over to his work table and sat down. He figured for as long as he couldn't fall asleep, he might as well sew and get some extra work done.  
  
Someone softly knocked on his door downstairs.  
  
Quietly, Gavin crept through his house to the entryway, silently cursing his squeaking floor boards along the way. He listened. They knocked a little louder and called his name. Grabbing a knife and hiding it behind his back, he slowly opened the door.  
  
"Hey Gavin, mind if I come in for a bit?"  
  
"Oh, it's just you Caleb. Yeah, come in." Gavin opened up the door wider to let the lad in and closed it behind him.  
  
Caleb kept his coat on, but removed his shoes. "What's with the knife?"  
  
"It's kind of late, I dunno." Gavin placed the blade on the entry table. "Would you like some tea?"  
  
"No thank you, but I'd love to sit for a moment to rest my feet, if I could."  
  
"Yeah, go for it. Sorry I already put out the fireplace." Gavin walked his guest to the small dining table and lit the lantern. "So what brings you out here so late?"  
  
"I was just wondering, have you seen Michael around? I know this sounds really weird, but I need to report his whereabouts immediately."  
  
Gavin cocked his head. "What are you, bloody following him?"  
  
"I said it would sound weird, alright? Please, did he come back with you after Jack's party?" Caleb seemed agitated.  
  
Gavin shifted nervously. "So, you're going to have a hard time believing this, but I need to tell you about what happened over at Jack's."  
  
It didn't take long for Gavin to explain. Caleb seemed to take it well, except for the fact that the captain of King Ryan's guard had taken Michael.  
  
"Did he know how long he'd be away?"  
  
Gavin shrugged. "The captain said he'd probably make his way back home in a few days."  
  
Caleb shook his head. "I can't believe you guys just handed him over to Ryan." He stared at Gavin with what looked like disappointment. Almost resentment.  
  
"What? You can't believe. You weren't there, you don't know what it was li-"  
  
"Is that Michael's necklace?" Caleb leaned toward him to get a better look. "You took that from him?"  
  
Gavin huffed and grabbed the necklace defensively. "No, you douche. He dropped it after he became a goddamn monster, and I didn't find it until he left! I was going to give it back to him when he came home. What are you doing coming into my house and pointing fingers for?"  
  
Caleb sighed, before getting up. "I'm sorry. It's just my boss has been on edge since the night of Jack's party, and he finally sent me here to try and clear things up. I should have come immediately, but we didn't know this would happen. You need to come with me." He put his shoes on.  
  
Sputtering, Gavin got up after him. "Wait, Caleb, wha-"  
  
"Pack a bag, we're leaving now."

-

Michael sat huddled under a coarse blanket. He had long lost track of time and now only counted in breaths, in heartbeats, in the occasional drip from the small, lead pipe on the other side of the Hole from him.  
  
He also counted in visits from Arron or Lynn, brothers who guarded classified areas of the castle. They worked directly under Jon, instead of Meg. He wondered if she even knew who they were. He faintly heard the pranks and jokes with each other, too far away to acknowledge his pleas for food. He had given up yelling for their help days ago.  
  
Jon also visited. He keenly observed him through the barred door, blue eyes boring holes into him.  
  
"You remember when I told your fortune after you cast the bones your first night here?" he asked.  
  
"Go away."  
  
"Aww, Michael, I'm hurt. Why do you have to be like that?" Jon tossed his hair out of his face. "Anyway, I lied about the ones that didn't mean anything. It all pointed to you ending up here, the things that will happen. Isn't that crazy?"  
  
Michael buried his head deeper into his knees, trying to ignore his visitor.  
  
Jon went on regardless. "I don't know what the renewal of friendship thing was about, though. It'll be interesting to see how that plays out."  
He looked expectantly, but was still met with the same silence. He changed the subject. "So Ryan told me you never learned where Ray was these days. I never knew he was involved with Achievement Hunter, he never mentioned you or any of the others. I always wondered how he was so good at games, now it makes sense!"  
  
Michael perked up. "You know him?"  
  
"Yeah! Him and Tina are really good friends of mine, actually. They run a floral shop in the capitol, and I visit them and their dog sometimes."  
  
"You're fucking lying." Michael spat.  
  
"Language!" Jon said in mock scolding. "Anyway, I thought it was such a strange coincidence, I had to tell you. Tina's such a sweetie. It's a shame what happened to Ray's arm,  
though, I can't believe you did that."  
  
"Do they know I'm still here?"  
  
"No, I told them you had gone home after the feast."

-

Michael found himself wondering if all of those visits had even been real, or if he had made them up. His mind had too little stimuli to keep itself in working order. It latched onto any random thought he had and ran wild with it; in this manner, Michael had escaped the Hole many times, only to realize, with painful surprise, that he had never left.  
  
He narrowed his eyes. A cool breeze silently passed through him and chilled his exposed feet. It would have been refreshing were it not for the gag inducing foulness of the air it brought with it. Of this, he was sure it was real. He covered his nose and crept around on the floor blindly trying to find the pipe in the pitch black. The air flow stopped. Brows furrowed, he looked into the tube. He could see nothing. Wary of any mold lining it, Michael reached into the tube as far as his arm would let him. Nothing. He wiped his arm off on the blanket and sat back across from the pipe again.  
  
The putrid smell of the air left him feeling nauseous and tired. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.  
-  
When he woke, the cold draft resumed. Michael immediately covered his nose again and stumbled over to the pipe. He hit it, but it didn't budge. The wind, however, stopped, and he peered into the tube. Without his glasses, he couldn't make out what was on the other side, but at the end of the tunnel was a small, blurry circle of light, which hurt to look at. He put his ear to the opening. Faint scratching sounds echoed from the other side. He cleared his throat and called into the pipe. "Hello?" He held his breath and listened. Silence. He looked in the tube again only to be greeted with the same darkness as before. The pipe should have just been for draining, he was sure. It shouldn't lead to anywhere so far underground, that would have been impossible.  
  
Sitting down with a huff, he felt the half-eaten gristly piece of meat on the floor at his side.  
-  
An unknown amount of time later, he began to gnaw on the dried out and tough piece of meat when the flow of air returned again. He bent over, and, from what little he had consumed, he retched onto the floor. He would have stayed in that position, but a glow from through the door and the sound of footsteps drawing near stirred him. Conveniently, the foul draft had ceased.  
  
"Feeling a bit under the weather are we?" Ryan tutted while unlocking the door. "I apologize for my long absence. I see Jon's done a terrible job of looking after you."  
  
Michael struggled to get away, but Ryan strode in and picked him up by the hair so he could shackle his wrists. Weakened by nausea, starvation, and now painful light he wasn't used to, he couldn't fight Ryan as he scooped him into his arms, crusty blanket and all, and carried him out into the cellar. His collar was chained to a chair. He was sitting at a small table with a single candlestick and a bowl of hot soup.  
  
"I thought it would be nice if you ate something fresh for once. I know the common fare of leftover meat must be getting...old. So, I had a lovely mushroom stew prepared for you, and I'll have someone in shortly to clean out the Hole for you. I do hate messes." Ryan looked at him expectantly from across the table.  
  
Michael looked at his soup through half open eyes. It looked and smelled delicious; button mushrooms and onions swam in a murky, brown broth with seasoning resting on top. There was a spoon next to the bowl. It was intricately carved out of what looked to be ivory.  
  
Ryan grinned. "Do you like it? I carved that just for you, I had some spare time the past few nights on the road. I thought you would appreciate a gift as a token of my gratitude for staying with me. I enjoyed your company at the feast, it's a shame I'm not here as often as I'd like to be. We'll just have to make the most of the time we have together this week."  
  
Michael reached for the spoon and held it. He looked up at Ryan, who simply smiled at him. He set the spoon back down, and looked at his shackled hands.  
  
Ryan sighed. "If you would please be good and eat, I'll even treat you to a warm bath, how does that sound?"  
  
Michael remained silent.  
  
"Or, if you don't do what I want, I'll break your arms."  
  
Breathing in sharply, Michael reached for the spoon again and shakily consumed the soup. He assumed Ryan would break his arms anyway, but the threat of that happening sooner rather than later scared him into submission. How does one prepare for inevitable torture? At least the meal was hot and savory, though something was off about the taste.  
  
Just as he was slurping up the last of the broth, he glanced up at Ryan who was staring at him. He had been watching him eat the whole time.  
  
"What was in this?" Michael asked.  
  
"Oh, I dunno. Beef broth, wine, mushrooms, wild onions, and something you'll find out about soon." Ryan chuckled to himself.  
  
Michael threw the spoon and flipped the bowl over, spilling what little liquid was left. He tried to flip the small table as well, but by that time, Ryan had calmly stood up and dragged the table out of his reach. "What's done is done, no use fussing about it."  
  
Ryan walked over to Michael, grabbed a wrist, and tried to lock it to that arm of the chair. Michael struggled to keep his arms away, but the king was having none of it and smacked him deftly across the cheek. Dazed, he let Ryan restrain him while he fought the urge to vomit. He heard people descending the stairs to the chamber and the sound of sloshing buckets. When Ryan finished locking him in place, he turned to address the servants.  
  
"Ah, just in time. Leave the buckets, I'll ready the bath myself. You, Lindsay my pet, would you do the honors of cleaning out the Hole? It could really use some housekeeping."  
  
Michael craned his neck and squinted to get a look at the servants and saw the blurry figure of the girl who had drawn his bath so many days ago. She bowed after receiving her instructions and went back up the staircase, presumably to gather cleaning supplies. Somewhere behind him, Ryan was pouring water while cheerily whistling a tune. When the stream of servants carrying in buckets ceased, and the two were alone, Ryan resumed talking to Michael.  
  
"You know, Michael, if you play your cards right, we could be friends."  
  
Michael gritted his teeth, still fighting back nausea. His mouth heavily salivating, he dry heaved.  
  
Ryan finished pouring the last of the water and strode over to stand behind Michael. "It really is in your best interest to behave for me. If I take that horrid collar off, will you promise to play nice?"  
  
Michael quickly assessed his options as best as he could through the fog of malnourishment and queasiness. He could continue struggling against his captor in a fight he was not going to win. What fresh hell awaited him if he complied, he did not know. But...if there was the slightest chance he could make it out alive or find the opportunity to escape, he would play this sick man's games.  
  
He hung his head. "I'll..play nice."  
  
The king caressed Michael's face. "Aw, what a good boy, Michael," he said soothingly. "I thought you would have put up more of a fight, but I'm thrilled nonetheless."  
  
Michael flinched away from Ryan's hands and inwardly cursed himself. What had he just agreed to?  
  
Ryan unlocked the thick, metal collar around Michael's neck, revealing bruised flesh rubbed completely raw. Slowly, he peeled the blanket away, unwrapping the naked, emaciated prisoner beneath. Michael's shaking returned as the cold air of the cellar brushed over him like icy fingers. Ryan removed the restraints, helped him stand up, and escorted him to the bath. The large stone slab tub was built into the floor and filled nearly to the top with avidly steaming hot water. The king nudged Michael towards the tub. He hesitated.  
  
Ryan encouraged him. "It's probably not as hot as it looks."  
  
It was near boiling in temperature. Stifling a pained grunt, Michael set himself down into the tub. His skin quickly grew bright red as he internally screamed. The water only came up to chest height, and slowly, he could feel the submerged part of his body grow numb to the burning. Sweat formed on his face and neck.  
  
Ryan rolled his puffy sleeves up, and grabbed an empty pale to gather up water.  
  
"Close your eyes, Michael." Ryan poured water over his head. Slowly. Excruciatingly.  
  
Michael felt feverish and his meal threatened to come up again. He managed to keep it down.  
  
Ryan started lathering his hair with a sweet scented soap. It smelled of roses. He spoke as he continued to work the grime and dirt out of Michael's scalp. "That was quite the show you put on, right after the feast. We had never planned to have those doors unlock. Something must have wanted you to see my little secret, the work of a cunning spirit, no doubt. A brilliant decision on their part, it spooked us as well. I had only wanted to see if what Meg said about you was true, and what do you know, it actually was."  
  
"Fuck you," is what Michael wanted to say, but he only scrunched his brow and avoided looking at him. "What was that thing I saw? It was really fucked up."  
  
"That," Ryan replied, "was once a person. He's my pet now, just like you will be if you ever misbehave."  
  
Ryan stopped massaging his scalp and rinsed his hands of the rose soap in the bath. "Close your eyes again." He poured water over Michael's hair again to rinse out the soap.  
  
An uneasy, bubbly feeling churned in Michael's stomach and his mouth started to salivate heavily again. "I'm going to be sick."  
  
"You're not going to be sick," Ryan said as though he were informing a child.  
  
"What was in the soup?" Michael inquired. His sense of self drifted away from him a little, dread and fear taking its place. His vision danced faintly.  
  
Ryan began to gently scrub his face and body with a pumice stone and soap, humming as he did so. "I told you, it was mushroom stew. I actually told you all of its ingredients, though I failed to mention that there was more than one kind of mushroom in it...I'm sure you get my meaning."  
  
Panicked, Michael leaned over the side of the tub, sticking his finger as far back in his throat as he could. The soup came back up, invading his nose and burning it. It was too late, he realized he had puked on Ryan who stood up, grabbed him by his hair, and pulled him up. Instead of blows to the head, which Michael prepared himself for, as best as he could manage naked, wet, and falling under the influence of psilocybins, Ryan only laughed at him. The king, in his mirth, brought Michael gently back down in the bath. But assistance turned to force, as he continued to lower Michael into the water, submerging him fully.  
  
Panicked, Michael thrashed against Ryan's firm grip, reaching out to push him away, to loosen his arms, to do anything to free himself. After what seemed like forever, but in reality had not been enough time to even run out of breath completely, Ryan let him go. He sat up and gasped for air. Someone else was in the room.  
  
"Lindsay!" Ryan sang out in feigned surprise. "Please make quick work of the housekeeping, I'll be finished with the bath soon."

-

Michael sat huddled in the cold dark of his prison once more, hair still dripping wet from the bath. He had been given a thin mattress and pillow in addition to a clean blanket. The pillow was made of spiders, waiting to burst out the moment his head touched it. The mattress was full of cockroaches, centipedes, and scorpions. The pipe in the wall that had given him grief before stood silent. Watching.  
  
The blanket was the only shield from these evils, so he sat wrapped in it. The door had disappeared to the end of the hole, which had telescoped out to become an infinitely long hallway. The top of the well had become impossibly tall in the same manner. All of the stones lining the walls and floor threatened to break loose and bash his bones in.  
  
While he dreaded his sinister surroundings with every fiber of his being, he also fought with the compounding anxieties built up in his head. Every soul crushing, embarrassing event in his life that he had long forgotten danced in front of him, all playing at once. He was forced to relive them in excruciating lucidity. Clawing at the air, he tried desperately to escape Hell, but he was trapped for an eternity. Hell would not let him go until it was done with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published 6/12  
> 3,257 words


	8. Chapter 8

His head was so much clearer when the effects of the drugging wore off.  
  
And he realized.  
  
It was so simple.  
  
Michael was astounded he had never realized before.  
  
There was nothing now he wouldn't give if he could just live through this hell to see his boy again. He bargained and pleaded silently to whatever higher power that was listening, over and over. He had never done much wrong in his life, but he would do better. More importantly, he would do right by Gavin. He imagined running back home to him a thousand times, sometimes crying with joy as though it were real.  
  
With burning love for Gavin in his heart guarded by a body full of hate for Ryan, Michael vowed to do everything in his power to live.

-

Days later saw Michael's resolve dampened.  
  
He laid on his side, imitating the mold that lined the cracks of the stone well. He wished he wasn't conscious but he could only sleep so much. It was hard to tell awake from asleep in the Hole anyway. At least the pipe sticking out of the wall ceased giving him trouble. Living in total darkness and isolation came easier, but only because the alternative was being dragged out into the cellar to bend to Ryan's will. Feigning even mild enthusiasm for time spent with that fucked up asshole became more difficult with each passing time.  
  
He tried to relive good memories to cope, but it was like staring at the cover of a book and dropping it on the floor before he could turn a page.  
  
It had only been three nights since he was drugged and nearly drowned, and Ryan escalated the violation each time.  
  
The first night, he seemed almost sincere in his sweetness. He had arranged for a small bed to be installed in the cellar, topped with a mattress, a clean sheet, and rose petals. He gave Michael a soft robe to wear, so he wouldn't feel cold and exposed.  
  
A bowl of steaming broth and cup of tea sat on a table. Before he was permitted to drink his fare, Ryan asked Michael to suck him off. He fulfilled the request, furiously wishing all the while he could bite and tear off Ryan's dick and spit the blood into his face. He refrained from showing any resentment, lest Ryan catch onto his plan. The rage he held back yearned for retaliation but he would wait until the time was right.  
  
All the while, Ryan talked about his day; the people he met, the problems he worked to solve, and the paperwork. Oh, the dreaded paperwork.  
  
After he had finished and sat gagging on cum, Ryan took out a handkerchief and gently cleaned up Michael's face. He was free to wash the salty taste out with herbal tea and  
savory broth before Ryan was ready to put him back in the hole for the night.  
  
"Goodnight, Michael," Ryan said as he blew out the candles and trudged up the stairs with a lantern, leaving Michael to the dark once more.  
  
The second night went similarly, but instead of cumming, Ryan grabbed Michael by the hair and pulled him up into a rough kiss. He guided Michael's hand to stroke his own cock, while moving his other hand down to caress Michael's body. Michael had seen the small, brass pitcher of oil on the table earlier. He knew where Ryan was going with this and tried to accept it. At least he got to keep the robe on. He wasn't getting hard stroking his own dick, so Ryan laid him on the bed and sucked him. Michael winced remembering how easy Ryan was able to get him up. When he was satisfied, Ryan poured a little oil in his hand, and massaged Michael's anus.  
  
Then Ryan was perched over him, ready to enter. Michael clutched the sheet next to his head and closed his eyes. He braced himself. Ryan oiled up his cock and slowly pushed into him.  
Michael inwardly panicked and it must have showed. He couldn't help his breathing becoming rapid, his occasional gasps, his hands gripping the sheet under him tighter. His stomach churned and he thought he'd be sick.  
  
Eventually Ryan gave up trying to relax him and pumped harder and faster until he came. Still inside of him, Ryan leaned over Michael, panting and dripping sweat. He resisted the urge to push him off as Ryan sank lower until he was on top of him. They lay like that for a few moments until Ryan heard Michael's strained breathing and got off of him, finally pulling his cock out. Semen drenched the bed. Ryan got a small towel and wiped himself off before tending to Michael. After he was done cleaning Michael up, Ryan applied a salve to soothe the burning pain. Michael felt tears welling up in his eyes and begged them to not fall, hoping that Ryan would not see them.  
  
Without much more attention, Ryan kissed Michael's forehead, gave him broth and tea, then put him away.  
  
Michael didn't want to remember the third night, but he couldn't help it. Ryan was nonchalant about the evil he committed and remained aloof about the suffering he inflicted. But when the mood struck him, he would swing wildly the other way into full on tenderness, almost like he was sorry, and Michael had come to rely on those small times of mercy so far.  
  
There was none on the third night.  
  
He couldn't help but cry afterwards, which possessed Ryan to cradle him and rock him back and forth tenderly until he was quiet. Ryan provided a cloth and wiped his tears, petting his hair and whispering that it was going to be okay. He offered him the usual broth and tea, but Michael refused.  
  
"You'll need to drink something to keep your strength up," Ryan softly urged.  
  
Curling up tighter on the cold floor, despondent and unmoving, Michael squeezed his eyes shut; his moment of weakness and humiliation was unpleasant to think about.  
  
The putrid wind that had gently entered the Hole days ago resumed, bringing with it this time faint voices. As soft and ominous as smoke, the whispering ached to be heard, and Michael stilled his breath and strained to listen. Whatever words were being said, they were spoken over each other in a jumbled mess, but they were repeated insistently.  
  
Annoyed, Michael whispered, "I don't know what you're fucking saying."  
  
The voices quieted and the wind stopped.  
  
Then, very clearly, they all said in unison, "Get out."

-

"You know, Michael," Ryan said while examining the edge of a carving knife, "I really hate the times when I'm away from you. I really do."  
  
This night was the 7th in a row since Ryan's games started. Michael was laid face down on the mattress, which was always cleaned and prepped prior to when Ryan took him out for play. The robe had been shredded beyond use and sat uselessly in a heap on the floor. A multitude of red, blue, purple, black bruises and abrasions of all sizes decorated his body. Never his face, though. That was the only leniency he was given. His left arm had been twisted backward a little too far the previous night, so it was stiff and painful. He cradled it under him to keep Ryan from wounding it further. It hurt laying on his stomach because of his tender, possibly cracked ribs.  
  
"Before we get started tonight," Ryan continued, "I thought I'd take the time to give you something to remember me by. I'll be away on business again, which I loathe. I want you to think fondly of the nights we've spent together so our time apart won't seem so lonely."  
  
Ryan straddled Michael's legs and sat down, crushing a particularly large and painful bruise in the process. He leaned over him, mouthed his ear, and planted a kiss on his cheek. Michael only clenched his jaw.  
  
"Any sign of protest, I'll have to tie you down, and things will only get worse from there, understand?"  
  
Michael nodded once and buried his head into the sheets. The tip of the blade dragged into the starved thin flesh of his back, just over his left shoulder blade. Bruised or no, Ryan made no distinction.  
  
"R--" the mad man said slowly as he completed the letter. He wiped up some of the blood with the sheets. Michael had nearly chewed off the insides of his cheeks, his face red with pain and anger.  
  
Ryan started on the next letter, while Michael dug holes into his palms with his fingernails.  
  
"Y--" Sweat formed on Michael's body, but quickly cooled him, giving way to goosebumps.  
  
"A--"  
  
...  
  
"N!" Ryan beamed at his handiwork. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it my pet?"  
  
Michael only heaved and bled, ignoring his question.  
  
Nonplussed, he went on. "Now, you belong to me. A boy and his king. I would have branded you and saved you half the pain, but that's no fun for me and the smell of a burn wound healing is a little hard on the senses. It's bad enough you live like a filthy animal down here, I'll not further sully the air with your burning flesh."  
  
Michael didn't know what made him think of it, but the question was out of his lips before he had barely even processed it through the stinging, screaming agony of his wounds. He asked, "Can I go outside? I've done everything you asked."  
  
The king stopped wiping up blood for a moment to look at Michael. "Of course you can. How about I bandage you up and we can go."  
  
Ryan set to wrapping a long strip of cloth around him after he applied a thick, smelly ointment. He wrapped Michael in a clean blanket and swooped him off the bed and carried him up the stairs, as though Michael weighed nothing.  
  
His heart pounded. He didn't have a plan, but soon he'd have his chance!  
  
When they reached the top of the staircase, Ryan carried him through a dark service hallway to the stairs of an old tower. At the top, portions of the roof and wall were missing and worn away. Above them, Michael heard the tiny peeping of sleeping birds roosting in the rafters. He almost forgot his pain as he gazed up in awe at the stars. Fresh air washed through the sweat of his hair, almost leaving him feeling clean and calm.  
  
Ryan set Michael on the floor and sitting across from him. "We're lucky! The meteor shower should be in full swing tonight. We should see some good ones if we wait, it's just about midnight."  
  
Michael leaned on the crumbled parapet and pretended to look for shooting stars while planning a course of action. The open lacerations on his back were angry and probably still bleeding. The only thing that kept him sitting upright was the adrenaline.  
  
He realized he had been absentmindedly toying with broken rocks and stones on the floor, and without looking, he grabbed a hefty sized one. It fit well in his hand, but was jagged one side.  
  
Moving faster than he could process, Michael thrashed the stone at Ryan's head, making contact. He got in a solid blow and raised his arm to strike again, but Ryan grabbed it. The larger man threw him off of him, scrambling to his feet. Before Michael knew it, he was at the wrong end of several punches to the face, knocking him onto his inflamed back, sending stinging agony through his body. The stone was ripped out of his hand and Ryan stood over him with it.  
  
Behind his own arms raised defensively, Michael saw the blood he had drawn trickle down the side of Ryan's face. His expression had become dark with animosity. In an instant, it transformed into the cool mask of detachment, and Ryan chucked the stone out of the tower. He seemed smug to have gotten the upper hand again so quickly.  
  
"That was a good one, Michael. You really caught me unaware, " he said, gingerly touching the blood on his face. His voice had a nonchalant deviousness to it. "You'll be disheartened to know, I saw your attack coming from a mile away. You think you're my first victim? I've done this dozens of times, and every time I learn more and more about what I do. I hone my craft, and I've seen this escape attempt soooo many times. You were so sure you had me convinced I could trust you even for a second, thinking all the while that all you had to do was find an opportunity to run. Had you kept up that charade for another week, I might have actually bought it. Everyone generally gives in just before that. But, it's too bad, now the real fun begins."  
  
Nose bleeding and heart dropping, Michael stared up at Ryan in unbridled enmity. "Fuck you," he spat.  
  
Ryan smirked. "Oh, you've utterly fucked yourself...harder than I ever could."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published 6/21  
> 2,182 words  
> Sorry this took a while and it's not very long! I meant to finish and post before I left for Portland, and once I got here I've been super busy. I'm visiting a friend for a couple weeks, then afterwards we make our way down to Austin for RTX! I'm pretty amped but also probably won't be able to post until I go back home? I have chapters 10 and 11 finished, but 9 isn't even started yet. I'm not counting on having much opportunity to write, but when I can I will try!


	9. A Body Shrouded

"God, it feels like every time I turn around, there's more...strays filling up this place. Who even are these new people?" asked an older man slouched in his armchair by the fireplace.  
  
"They're....ugh, Joel, we're /temporarily/ providing them refuge, remember?" a larger bearded man answered from the cool shadows of a chair by an open window. A soft evening breeze blew sweet autumn air into the room.  
  
"Well no one told me they came already, I was expecting an announcement or something, goddamn." Joel shifted closer to the hearth, trying to bring his chilled hands back to life.  
  
"Anyway, did we find everyone we were supposed to?"  
  
"Uh, yeah, I think we got that taken care of. I'd have to ask Barbara," the bearded man replied.  
  
"Wait, isn't she gone right now?"  
  
"Oh, shit, yeah. She left earlier to get the last ones."  
  
"Adam," the older man exclaimed. "You're in charge of this shit, I thought you were on top of it!"  
  
"Don't be mad at me, fucker! This isn't my mission, it's Bab's and Baird's job, ask them." The younger man, Adam, sat up in agitation. "Goddamn dude."  
  
"Yeah, but you work with them, do you see? You see why you should probably know this?" Joel sat back in his chair again. "I'm just tired. Forget it."  
  
The two were quiet for a moment.  
  
"You stressing about the masquerade coming up?" Adam asked. "Ryan comes every year."  
  
Joel sighed in disgust. "Don't remind me." A large, orange tabby walked into the room and rubbed against Joel's leg. He picked it up and nuzzled it.  
  
"You think he knows what we're doing? You think he'll bring spies?"  
  
"Well it's bad enough he has Jon, right? Like, what more can he do to snoop around than to bring his fucking wizard from hell with him." Joel sunk further into his chair, as though it could devour him and free him of his responsibilities. The cat pushed it's head into the palm of his hand. "I'm probably number one on his suspect list, even if we knew nothing. The bad blood between our houses was never exactly cleared up after the war."  
  
"Well, how much time do you think you have left?" Adam asked solemnly.  
  
Joel avoided the question. "You know it will probably end up being Burns or Hullum who takes the throne. They have money. I have money. They have wives and kids. I don't. I used to be anxious about that, but I don't actually care anymore. I just want that creep, Ryan, out of the picture before I go."  
  
Adam cleared his throat. "You're not worried about Duke Sorola?"  
  
"I'm not worried about any of them, he can have it too, sure. I don't think his dog, Oswald, is allowed to inherit the throne, though."  
  
They both chuckled, then returned to solemnity.  
  
"I need a drink," Joel said.

-

Gavin paced back and forth in the empty great hall.  
  
"So they didn't tell you anything?" Geoff asked. He was sat down, leg bouncing nervously.  
  
'No, I've been here for several days and haven't heard a damn thing about what's happening," Gavin replied.  
  
"Well, they're going to get Ray and Tina, now, right?" Griffon asked, cradling a goblet of wine.  
  
"Yeah, we know that much," Geoff said.  
  
"This all has something to do with Michael." Gavin stood still in thought. "He hasn't come home all this time."  
  
"Wasn't he only supposed to be gone a few days or whatever?" Geoff asked.  
  
"Yeah, but that doesn't explain why we're here. Something must have happened to him, but what's that got to do with us?" Gavin asked.  
  
"I dunno, but have you been eating?" Geoff pulled at Gavin's unusually baggy shirt. "You've lost weight."  
  
Gavin looked down at himself in mild surprise. "Oh. I guess I have, haven't I?"

-

Michael could tell the difference between visual hallucinations, which were crisp and clear, and really seeing something, which was always blurry because his glasses were taken. It was the hallucinations of strange music, distant screaming, and phantom footsteps that creeped him out. Especially when he could feel icy fingers delicately tapping across his skin or face.  
  
He was given a large jug of water days ago and hadn't seen anyone since. By his count, he'd been alone in total darkness for about 5 days, and even the Marqius brothers had left their post way up in the other room. He had grown used to the isolation, except for the occasional panic attack. He loathed someone visiting him, but he was also scared to live the rest of his life, however long that may be, stuck in a godforsaken cell in the ground. He clung to the iron bars of the door, just so he had something sturdy to hold onto when he found it hard to breathe. He didn't want to stay, but he didn't want to go.  
  
He tried to ignore how his hands felt.  
  
Over a few days, they'd grown gradually longer and more bony, reminding him of the freakish nightmare he'd met in the abandoned wing all those nights ago.  
  
How long ago was it exactly? Was that even real?  
  
He'd almost forgotten about that inhuman monster until he realized he was probably becoming more and more like it as his abandonment wore on. His fingers yearned to claw at his own face to stop the transformation, and each time he got the urge he had to talk himself out of making it worse.  
  
The open sores on his back had become infected, steadily getting hotter and more painful. He'd torn off the bandages because they'd started to smell. They were covered in globs of pus and blood, and the whole thing had almost caused him to faint.  
  
For the thousandth time, he heard doors opening and the approach of footsteps. That was how many of his delusions started. What was strange was the slowly increasing glow of light coming from the stairwell in the cellar and the sounds of someone struggling. The light level became too intense, so Michael shut his eyes.  
  
He heard Ryan's heavy breathing as he tried to restrain another person.  
  
"How are we doing, Michael?" Ryan sang out. "Would you like to say 'hello' to your visitor?"  
  
The other person stopped struggling for a moment to blurt out, "Michael? You're down here?"  
  
It was Ray.  
  
Michael's heart was beating frantically in his chest. He tried to clear his throat to talk, but he'd gone for so long without using his voice. He barely managed to croak, "Ray?" He tried opening his eyes and was met with blinding light that caused him to tear up. He forced them closed, but leaned into the bars as far as possible.  
  
Ryan seemed to have dropped Ray, because he heard the younger lad's desperate scrambling to come to him. Michael almost cowered away to the back of the hole, but Ray grabbed his arms through the barred door.  
  
"Michael, oh my god. Holy shit, what the fuck is this?" he asked, out of breath.  
  
Michael hazarded opening his eyes as wide as they would go, trying to catch a glimpse of his friend. He could see his outline, back lit by the glow of a torch. He considered that what he saw might've been real.  
  
"Ray, you gotta escape, you shouldn't be here!" Michael hoarsely belted out.  
  
Ray looked aggravated. "Well, yeah, no shit. How are you getting out?"  
  
"Just fucking go!" Michael yelled. His throat became irritated, and he bent over coughing.  
  
"I think you've had enough fun together, you're boring me." Ryan said, walking up on Ray. "Time to say goodbye."  
  
Ray bolted, managing to escape Ryan's grasp. He grabbed a knife off of the tool rack and pointed it at his pursuer. "I'm not leaving without you, Michael," he called out.  
  
"Goddammit Ray, fucking run!" Michael's voice broke. Through still half open eyes, he tried to watch the face-off through the bars, but he could barely make out Ray and Ryan's blurry figures.  
  
"Aww, a knife? Cute." Ryan grabbed a long, metal rod from the tool rack. He swung it around with ease, testing its weight and balance in his hand, as if he even had to.  
  
Michael frantically searched the hole for something to throw at Ryan, but he knew his prison well. There was nothing small enough to fit through the door that would do enough damage. Hopelessly, he picked pebbles up off the ground and feebly threw them at Ryan to no avail.  
  
The two in the cellar moved carefully around each other in a slow dance, as best as Michael could see. They half circled until Ryan stepped towards Ray to attack. Michael realized the larger man had herded Ray into a corner. Ray dodged a light swing from Ryan and ran under his arm to get behind him. Ryan, revealing his intention to get Ray's back to him, swung the metal rod quickly into Ray's spine with a sick thud. Ray collapsed with a shout of surprise and pain, still clutching the knife.  
  
"Come on, up up. Time to run," Ryan urged as he picked up the lad from the floor, placing him on his feet. He prodded him to move forward. "Don't give me any of that shenanigans, I know you can still move. Careful about your arm, I see that's still broken."  
  
Michael's heart sank. He had forgotten about Ray's arm. With his disadvantages, he didn't stand a chance against Ryan.  
  
Heaving, Ray, stumbled forward but stopped short, whirling around to slash at his pursuer. It was no use; Ryan deftly moved back in time, immediately shoving Ray.  
  
"I'll give you a head start, go on." Ryan gestured at the staircase.  
  
Ray hesitated then staggered up the stairs while Ryan counted down from ten.  
  
"Run!" Michael shouted up after Ray, hoping against hope his friend escaped somehow.  
  
Ryan stormed up after his victim. who hadn't gotten far.  
  
Michael recoiled at the sound of Ray's screams as he was beat again and again. He pressed his palms into his ears as hard as they would go, and curled over on his side. He'd never had such a vivid hallucination. He told himself over and over it was just a really bad episode.  
  
He swam in his own murky thoughts until the screech of the door to the hole brought him back. He knew it was Ryan and crawled away, only to have Ray's broken body dumped in front of him. He froze in horror.  
  
Without a word, Ryan lumbered off, closing and locking the door before taking the light upstairs.  
  
Hell became dark once more.  
  
Ray came to life, his sputtering echoed off of the stone walls.  
  
"Ray?" Michael whispered with a lump forming in his throat. Tears welled up in his eyes.  
  
Ray only wheezed and gurgled through what must have been his own blood. Michael slowly approached, gently feeling the ground before him until he found the lad. Tenderly, he picked him up and held him in his lap. Ray groaned in pain but couldn't move on his own.  
  
Michael clung to him, whispering reassurances through Ray's strangled breathing. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts. I know. It'll be okay." 

-

Lindsay dreaded going down the stairs to the Hole.  
  
She knew Michael was still down there, and he'd been alone in the dark for over eleven or twelve days. The previous night, Ryan had brought down someone new. She hated to think of what could have become of them.  
  
She never wanted to piece together what had happened every time she was sent down there: a hard feat considering the story every blood splatter and smear told.  
  
In the stairwell, old dried blood had been thrown violently on the steps and walls. She followed the drops and smudges to the bottom floor of the cellar. She pretended not to notice how they lead to the door of the Hole, and, instead, she placed her torch on the wall. She trudged up the stairs to fetch her cleaning supplies and scrub the stains out of the stone. It was hard work on the body; her knees, arms, and back ached.  
  
When she got to scrubbing in front of the door, she finally allowed herself to peek in at the scene just beyond the bars.  
  
Michael was faced away from her. He was sitting up, holding something and rocking back and forth slowly. He whispered absentmindedly under his breath.  
  
The hair on Lindsay's neck rose.  
  
"Michael?" She asked.  
  
He ceased all movement at the sound of his name. Slowly, he turned towards her, eyes puffy and distant. His gaunt frame was covered in dried blood.  
  
"Look." He murmured, pulling the thing he was holding towards her. "Look what he did to my friend."  
  
Lindsay realized he was holding a battered, bloody mess of a corpse.  
  
"We grew up together. We worked together back in Geoff's shop. When he left town, I felt like I lost him." His voice was caught in his throat. "Now he's really gone."  
  
"What was his name?" Was all Lindsay thought to say.  
  
Michael took a while to answer. "It was Ray." He looked up at her. "You didn't warn me this would happen. You should have told me to run when I had the chance."  
  
She was taken aback. "What?"  
  
"When I first came here. You came into my room and talked. You could have prevented this, and it's your fault." He wasn't threatening or angry, only bereaved.  
  
She crawled towards the door. "I would have told you if I could! Honestly, if I could have warned anyone, I would have. But I'm not allowed to." Tears were forming in her eyes. "If they knew I warned you, I'd be in your place and then someone else would have to do my job. I can't let anyone else go through what I have to, I can't."  
  
He didn't respond.  
  
"Please, only blame Ryan, no one else. We're all just his toys, never forget that," she begged.  
  
"I'll forgive you," he said, finally, "if you give me a knife."  
  
"I can't." Her tears spilt over, she couldn't help it. She'd never get used to when they asked for help killing themselves, that was the hardest.  
  
"I can't," she repeated. "You have to stay here a little while longer. I'm sorry." She gathered her supplies then hurried out of the cellar.  
  
She heard Michael call weakly after her. "Please--"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted 7/9  
> 2,403 words


	10. Dry Bone Valley

Joel stood up when a blonde woman entered the room.  
  
"Barbara, how'd it go?" Adam asked.  
  
She shook her head and glumly said, "I was too late."  
  
"Well what happened?" Joel asked.  
  
"There was a fire. I couldn't find their house for days until it went up in smoke one night. A girl and a dog were escaping out the back while an armored group of people dragged Ray out of the front door. There were too many of them, I couldn't do anything." Her eyes were dark with stress and lack of sleep. "I came back as soon as possible."  
  
Joel ran his hands through his hair. "Did you see where they took him?"  
  
"To Ryan, of course."  
  
"Of course," Joel repeated.  
  
"I'm so sorry." Barbara said, pained expression slightly exaggerated by the light of the fireplace. "I tried looking for his girlfriend afterwards, but she was gone."  
  
"There was nothing you could do. Go get some rest," Adam said.  
  
Right after she left, a larger man stood in the doorway.  
  
"Can I come in?" He asked.  
  
"Baird, please tell me you have a plan already." Joel said.  
  
"I do, actually," he replied, sitting in a chair across from the old king and handing him a bunch of papers. "You might not like all the risks involved, though." 

-

Thirst, hunger, and pain ate into Michael's sides so that he couldn't sleep. Not being able to sleep the last of his life away hurt more than the sores of laying on his side on the stone floor for so long. It hurt more than the inflamed gashes on his back that were full of maggots, feasting on the dying flesh that was becoming more and more each day. It physically pained him to be aware of Ray's corpse on the other side of the Hole, rotting and buzzing and stinking. A banquet for bugs, the both of them made.  
  
He was thankful that at least they were trapped in the dark and he couldn't see what a mess they'd both become. The stench had reached its peak, so surely Ryan wouldn't visit for a long time if he ever came back. Michael held onto the thought that he could die undisturbed and away from the king's wrath. He hated to think of that monster at all, but if it was in this last act of defiance, he would inwardly hold onto that small hope.  
  
He dry-heaved again, which set off a fit of shivering that he couldn't stop. Shaking had become more frequent, and he figured that maybe it was just because he was getting closer to dying, which excited and scared him at the same time. He carefully wrapped himself a little tighter into the crusty blanket without rubbing it too much on his back. As the shivers started to ease off, he slowed his breathing and tried to fall asleep again. After what seemed like forever, he was finally there on the edge of sleep and ready to fall.  
  
"You should probably eat something."  
  
Michael's eyes shot open. Someone was in the Hole with him. He stayed still and hoped that they thought he hadn't heard them. How had they managed to sneak down without him hearing? Maybe he'd fallen asleep without realizing.  
  
"Come on, get up. I know you're awake." The voice sounded familiar.  
  
Cautiously, he sat up, but kept the blanket wrapped around him for what little protection it would provide. No one was there. There was no hint of light coming from anywhere.  
  
"Ray?" Michael said, his own voice hoarse from dehydration and lack of use.  
  
"Yeah, dumb ass. It's me." His voice was rough and humorless.  
  
Michael rubbed his eyes, but to no avail. Ray was still decaying on the floor, judging by the constant low hum of bugs.  
  
"Hey, remember when we used to be better friends, and you didn't get me killed. Man, good times." Sarcasm surrounded the boy's words like flies to his own body.  
  
Clearly, he was dreaming. Michael laid back down and tried to ignore the hallucination.  
  
"Anyway, you look like shit. Since you're responsible for me being dead and I'm stuck here, I'm going to use this time to repair our relationship single handed. So get up, or I'll kick your ass or something. I don't even know if I can fucking do that, but I'll try."  
  
Michael curled up and hid his head under the blanket. His mind had broken. He really had lost it if he was hallucinating that Ray's corpse was talking to him. Maybe he could accept the sound and smell of his friend decomposing mere feet away from him, but hearing his voice took it too far. "Go away."  
  
"Listen, Michael. I didn't wade through the sludge of Death or wherever the hell I've been the past several days or weeks, whatever, to come back here and watch you die. It's bad enough I had to die and that shit sucks. Choose life."  
  
Michael didn't respond.  
  
"God damn, dude. I look worse than you do, I'm all full of bugs. I need to get out of this body, it's grossin' me out."  
  
Ray was silent for a while. Michael briefly wondered if maybe he had gone back to wherever he came from, the after life or wherever. He almost wanted Ray to stay, because, as excruciating as it was to have him around, Michael was lonely. Ghost Ray was a vast improvement on his imprisoned social life.  
  
"I think I'm stuck in the body." Ray said, panic almost seeming to come through in his voice. "Uh, I've been in worse situations in the afterworld, but to come back here and be tethered to my corpse. Kind of disappointing." Ray made grunting noises like he was trying to lift something heavy. "I wonder if I can move it, nope, no I can't, this feels gross, eww. Hey, Michael. Help."  
  
"What am I supposed to even do? You're dead." Michael sat huddled and stared in the direction of Ray's voice.  
  
"Maybe I can follow pieces of my body around. Try ripping off a finger for me, would you?"  
  
Michael's stomach lurched. "Ray, I am NOT touching you. Even being near you is probably killing me or something."  
  
"What's the matter, do I smell?"  
  
"Not funny, Ray."  
  
"Use a rock or something to break off one of my fingers. I'll try possessing one of them."  
  
Michael gritted his teeth and sat up. "Goddammit, Ray. There's no rocks in here. It's a clean cell. Well, it was clean."  
  
Ray sighed. "Then how the fuck do I get out? I'm stuck."  
  
"I dunno dude. You're probably not even really talking to me, so like, it doesn't matter." Michael's teeth started chattering.  
  
"I'm real, I just can't prove it right now." After a moment, Ray continued. "You know this place is ultra haunted?"  
  
"I'm not really surprised." Michael replied.  
  
"Yeah, I can't talk with any of them, but there's like tons of dead people all shoved in here. They're looking at us, which is pretty weird."  
  
Michael's brow furrowed. "I think they were talking to me one time. They used that pipe on the wall over by your body."  
  
"Huh. What'd they say?" Ray asked.  
  
"I don't remember. Maybe they told me to leave or something. Stank like shit, though."  
  
"Hmm. Have they said anything since?"  
  
Michael laid his head on his knees. "Who the fuck knows, I'm always hearing and seeing shit."  
  
"Are you going to sleep?"  
  
Michael yawned. "Yeah, I guess. If you're not here when I wake up, uh...bye."  
  
"I'm real dude, I'll be here."  
  
-  
  
When Michael woke, he felt groggier than ever. He'd fallen over on his side at some point.  
  
"Ray?" He called out, wiping crust from his eyes.  
  
"Oh man, okay, you're still alive, good." Ray replied. "You were out for a long time, I thought I was going to be stuck here alone."  
  
Michael cleared his throat and sat up. "Well, I mean, I've been alone in this shit hole for a long time. You get used to it, I guess."  
  
After a long pause, they both said in unison, "No you don't."  
  
Michael felt warm for once. The cold sensation that had eaten away at his feet and legs had receded. Even if Ghost Ray wasn't real, he was good company.  
  
"So," the dead lad said. "Since there's nothing to do really, you want to hear about my time in the hell that is the afterworld?"  
  
Michael shrugged. "This is hell, too. How bad could it be?"  
  
"Oooh, you don't even know. I've been through some shit, and that's why I don't you to die." Ray paused. "Well, I kind of wanted you to die before, because you got me killed and probably ruined Tina's life. If I find out anything's happened to her or Charlie, I'll kill Ryan then I'll haunt you for the rest of your life and make you miserable."  
  
"You can't even get out of your own stupid body." Michael retorted.  
  
"Hey, I'm figuring it out. Now do you want to hear my story or not?"  
  
"Yeah, fine. Go ahead."  
  
Ray huffed. "Okay, so like, get this. After I got the life beat out of me, I woke up being chased by a fucked up monster in some kind of demon desert--"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted 7/9  
> 1,555 words


	11. Land of the Lurking Twilight

Lindsay sat up in bed. She didn't know what was wrong, only that she felt uneasy.  
  
She wrapped herself in a blanket to guard against the chill of late autumn and tip toed through the servant's quarters. When she got to the hallway, she waited to listen.  
  
It didn't seem odd that it was quiet. On a normal night of the year, everyone but the guards and bakers were in bed.  
  
Still, she couldn't shake the feeling.  
  
She crept down narrow corridors to a tower where a friend of hers was always stationed for night shifts. She padded up the stairs to find the top floor empty. Alarmed, she looked out from the tower over the grounds of the estate. No one was at their posts.  
  
She ventured over to the garrison and peeked inside. The common room was empty but the candles were freshly extinguished. Invitations and flyers littered the tables and floor.  
  
She returned inside, checking the top of the staircase where Kdin stood watch as Jon's eyes and ears. Kdin wasn't there.  
  
When Ryan and Jon were away on business, the castle staff was under heavy scrutiny for any incidences. How would they all be punished if Ryan found out the guard just left without notice one night? She hoped they returned soon and with a good excuse. Her stomach tied itself in knots as she paced outside of the shared room where she and her coworkers slept. Her aching feet finally forced her to return to her bed, where she laid restless.

-

"Hey. Michael, wake up."  
  
Michael cracked his eyes open. He closed them again when they proved to be too dry and achy to open any wider. He barely managed a cough. "What."  
  
"No, really. Get up. Someone's coming," Ray said.  
  
Groaning, Michael rubbed his face. "I don't want to be awake if he's coming. I don't even want to be alive if he's here, goddammit." His head felt swollen, like his heart was throbbing in his head instead of his chest. He had a fever, and his whole body ached. For now, the gaping wounds on his back were content only to sting, but he knew they would start acting up if he had to move. His throat was sore and scratchy from vomiting bile, much to Ray's dismay. He could do nothing for the putrid stench.  
  
In a room somewhere up above, they could hear the dulled sounds of a skirmish. Alarmed, Michael sat up. His heart pounded in his ears and his stomach crept up into his throat. Ryan was bringing down another of his friends to kill in front of him, but Michael pleaded silently that wasn't the case.  
  
Then, silence.  
  
"What should we do?" Michael whispered.  
  
"Shut up and listen."  
  
Brow scrunched, Michael turned his gaze to up top. Light flooded the room above as someone opened the door that led to the top of the well. They attempted to enter the room quietly, but their heavy breathing gave them away. Softly, they approached the edge and waited. More silence.  
  
Michael clenched his teeth. Ryan was pushing this joke too far.  
  
Slowly, a boy peered over the edge down at him. They stared at each other for a moment, though Michael couldn't make out their face without his glasses.  
  
"Michael?" They asked.  
  
Michael bit into his tongue.  
  
"It's hard to see you down there, but I guess you're him. I'm here to get you out." The boy sounded young. The kind of voice that could hardly be taken seriously.  
  
He withdrew and Michael heard him go back where he came from. Moments later, he heard the boy quickly descend the staircase to the cellar with a torch, which he placed on the ground. He fumbled with a set of keys to find the one that unlocked the door. Michael had to hide his eyes from the light. When the boy had opened it, he invited Michael out.  
  
"Ray, is this actually happening?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Michael didn't move. The boy asked hesitantly, "Are...do you need help?"  
  
"Get the fuck up, dude. Come on!" Ray said.  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Why the fuck not?!"  
  
"Because I don't want this to be a trick. I don't want to be another hallucination, Ray. I can't tell if it's real or not." Michael struggled to bury the swelling lump in his throat.  
  
"Just fucking go. I'm here with you," Ray urged.  
  
Michael blinked. This had to be a trick, right? Ray didn't seem to think so.  
  
He stood up, securing the blanket around him, and took his first steps towards freedom. Maybe. He wasn't sure. The blood drained too quickly to his feet and he felt lightheaded.  
  
"Oh, good. You can move. That makes this a lot easier." The boy shuffled back to make room.  
  
"Ray, are you sure this is real?" Michael asked under his breath. The weight of his collar digging into his neck muddied his thinking with yet more pain.  
  
"You're not even fully convinced I'm real, why you asking me?!"  
  
"I was just asking, fuck!"  
  
"Shut up, he can hear you," Ray snapped. "You sound crazy."  
  
When Michael reached the threshold and crossed it, he stopped in front of the boy, wrapping the blanket around him tighter. He winced as it rubbed against his back, but he wasn't leaving naked. A few maggots were dislodged from his wounds and fell to floor, wriggling in the light of the torch. Michael shuddered.  
  
The boy's eyes watered from what Michael guessed was nausea from the smell. "Wow, yeah, it's you. You have no idea how great this is that you're alive, man. I thought we would be too late." He had no hint of deception in his voice, though it sounded funny because he had his nose pinched in his hand. "My name's Kerry, by the way."  
  
Michael turned away and rummaged around on the work bench.  
  
"Looking for something?" Kerry asked tentatively.  
  
Michael ignored him and kept searching for his glasses.  
  
The boy walked over and lit the lamp on the bench. "Are these your glasses?"  
  
Michael bent the frames into almost normal shape and put them on. It physically hurt to see with such clarity again. He looked around at the site of so many tortures and deaths before squinting at his new companion. He was shorter, a little on the round side, but very well armed. His wary eyes had bags under them, or maybe it was just the poor lighting that made him seem worse for wear.  
  
Kerry gave a faint smile as he stared back at him. Sick, brown eyes stared into tired, brown eyes. "I don't see any keys for your collar. We can try breaking a link off the chain and figure out how to remove the whole thing later, okay?"  
  
Michael shrugged, looking down.  
  
"Is there something heavy and sharp in here?" Kerry looked around on the bench, and found a meat cleaver on the tool rack. "Oh god," he muttered to himself. He ran a thumb over the blade to test the sharpness of the edge.  
  
Michael cautiously backed away from him, shielding himself with the blanket. Kerry turned around at the sound of the chain clinking.  
  
"Michael. It's okay. I'm here to get you out. Let me try and get that chain off first, please."  
  
Michael continued to eye the cleaver in Kerry's hand. He didn't look away from it as he slowly made his way to the bench, holding the chain in shaking hands. The links rattled softly. He set the chain down and held it taught, but he closed his eyes.  
  
"Hopefully this works." Kerry said. He struck the chain as hard as he could. The blade was ruined, so he flipped it over to the dull side and struck again. Again. Again. "That was actually a lot easier than I thought it'd be."  
  
A chain link chipped and broke off, clinking to the floor.  
  
"Dude, you don't want to know how close he was to getting your hand at one point." Ray chuckled to himself. "Also, as much as I love being food for gross shit, we should figure out how to take me with you."  
  
Michael looked in Kerry's direction and pointed at Ray. "We need to take him with us."  
  
Kerry stifled a gag. "Uh, okay? I don't think we can do that. I don't know how we would do that, I mean."  
  
"His, uh, ghost is trapped in there."  
  
"Oh." Kerry moved to just inside of the doorway to get a closer look. "Is that, um. Was that...Ray?"  
  
Michael nodded.  
  
"You said his ghost is trapped? Is that who you were talking to before?" Kerry asked.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Hey, try setting me on fire. See how that works." Ray said.  
  
"How is that supposed to work?" Michael asked.  
  
"I dunno, just try it."  
  
Michael grabbed Kerry's torch on the ground and went back to Ray's mess of a corpse. He set the torch low until the flames licked at the fabric of Ray's shirt and caught fire. Michael returned the torch to a confused Kerry.  
  
They looked on as the flames grew and consumed the body and the numerous crawling things living in it.  
  
"Ray?" Michael asked.  
  
"Hold on one second," Ray replied, barely audible over the snaps and crackles of the fire.  
  
Kerry checked the staircase. No one was there. "We, uh, need to get going really soon. Probably."  
  
Michael continued to stare at the body.  
  
"Like, right now, please." Kerry fidgeted.  
  
"Ray?" Michael called again.  
  
"Oh my god, I did it. I'm free, holy shit!" Ray answered. "That actually worked, I thought I was gonna die again, goddamn."  
  
Michael smiled faintly. "Good, you're following us?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm right next to you, but I should scout ahead." Ray's voice trailed off in the direction of the stairs.  
  
Michael couldn't see him, but could tell where he was when he spoke.  
  
"Ray's scouting ahead for us now," Michael whispered to Kerry. With a not entirely convinced expression, the boy simply nodded and headed up the staircase.  
  
Michael lagged behind but stumbled and fell to his knees. His body had allowed him all the movement it could stand and it was done; the pounding fever and rotting wounds were too great a toll. A warm arm clad in scaled, leather armor moved in to his rescue. Michael flinched and jerked his arm away from Kerry's.  
  
"Don't fucking touch me," Michael blurted. He remained on the floor, head lowered and arm raised defensively until Kerry backed off.  
  
"I'm sorry," the boy said.  
  
"Just don't touch me." Michael took deep breaths and braced himself to try and stand again.  
  
They made their way out of the basement and into the maze of servants' hallways. Kerry knew where to go, and Ray checked around every corner and door shouting "Clear!" as he went. Michael's chest and head hurt and it only got worse as they went on. He grimaced in pain, missing Ray's warning. They rounded a corner and standing in the middle of the corridor was Lindsay.  
  
"Where are you going?" She whispered, her eyes wide with fear. She stood stock still in her night gown and blanket.  
  
Kerry was ready to draw his sword. "Move out of the way."  
  
"You have to take me with you!" She pleaded.  
  
Kerry pinched his brow but softened up. "Fine." Kerry shoved past her, and Michael followed.  
  
"Thank you!" Lindsay hurried after them. "I heard about the 'guard appreciation night' being held tonight at a tavern in town. Was this your plan, Sir? We all knew something was up, especially since Ryan and Jon are away for --"  
  
"Hey." The voice coming from behind them sounded like Jon, but when they whipped around, only Kdin stood there. Kerry drew his sword, but Kdin continued speaking in Jon's voice. "Michael, the spell I put on you to keep you alive only works if you're in the castle. Once you leave, you'll probably die."  
  
Jon was a...wizard? Michael struggled to grasp that fact. They had all died out or disappeared a long time ago, before he was born. He began to believe more and more again that he was having one big hallucination.  
  
Kerry stepped between Michael and Kdin, drawing his sword. "Are you going to stop us?"  
  
"No. I only wanted to let Michael know. If by some miracle he survives, I never want to see him again." Jon sounded tired. Depressed even.  
  
"What about Ryan..?" Lindsay asked, eyes darting around as though he would show up too.  
  
Jon sighed. "I'll deal with him myself. Now leave," he said through clenched teeth. Kdin dropped to the floor.  
  
"What the hell is happening right now?" Kerry asked, breaking their stunned silence.  
  
Kdin perked up then. "I'm..." He stood up slowly, looking at the group confused. "I'm free..?" His voice was soft, almost inaudible. He walked past them to the door. He opened it and they followed him outside. In the courtyard, Kdin jumped and muttered, "How does it go again? I don't even remember anymore, it's been so long..."  
  
"What the fuck is even going on anymore?" Kerry asked to no one in particular. He rubbed his face with his hands, groaning.  
  
A blinding light hit them in the face. When it had disappeared, Kdin was gone. Instead, a large, pearlescent, scaled beast towered over them. Back turned to them, it heaved and snorted, flexing and relaxing. It's wings extended slowly.  
  
Kdin was a dragon. Dragons didn't exist. Wizards and dragons weren't real anymore, they all died out a long time ago.  
  
Michael knelt in shock as the creature before them tested its wings, flapping them forcefully but not enough to lift it up. Dust flew into their faces.  
  
"Ray?" Michael asked over the noise of the wind.  
  
"Yeah?" Ray answered, sounding distracted.  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
"I have no fucking clue, man."  
  
"Is it real, though?"  
  
Ray didn't answer. It occurred to Michael, then, that he understood what Kdin had meant when they first met. He didn't know how he remembered it, just that he was reminded of the night Kdin had boasted to him, alluding to something like this. Clinging to that, Michael accepted reality.  
  
He had been so lost in thought, he'd missed Kdin's exit. Looking up, the dragon had become a dark speck flying away in the moonlight.  
  
After a long silence, Kerry spoke up. "So, we should....get going..."  
  
Michael shakily rose to his feet once more, and followed the others to the stables.  
  
He breathed in fresh air for the first time in 40 days, though he didn't know it had been that long.  
  
Kerry untied his horse from a post and lifted himself up. He extended a hand to Michael, but Michael didn't take it.  
  
Kerry looked him over. "Can you get up?"  
  
"Here, let me help." Lindsay unlocked a stall and brought out a smaller, more slender horse. She saddled and bridled it before giving the reigns to Michael and disappearing into a storage room. Kerry sighed impatiently. The horse sleepily nuzzled Michael for treats.  
  
Lindsay returned with a step stool. She clambered up the horse unsteadily, then invited Michael up.  
  
"What is that, a pony?" Kerry asked.  
  
"It's uh, a palfrey? The best one here, it'll be easier to ride a long ways." Lindsay replied, grabbing Michael's hand to help him into the saddle behind her. She turned around to look at her passenger. "You can leave that blanket and take mine, I can go with out it."  
  
Michael gripped his coarse, sullied blanket closer to him. Kerry turned away, pretending to check his horse's saddlebags were secure. Michael quickly exchanged blankets. The sweetness of Lindsay's gift wasn't lost on him, and he found comfort in it.  
  
It dawned on him then that he had forgiven her.

-

Early morning light woke up the birds in the forest. Fog hung low and the cold chewed at Michael's feet. He shivered violently under his blanket. Despite the cool wind that blew through him, sweat still dotted his brow. His blood was boiling and yet it felt like glacier water running through his veins. Nausea churned in his stomach, threatening to come up, and the jostling of riding for hours in the night did nothing to help. They returned to a walking gait after entering the forest, as the path was hard to see in the dark, but somehow Kerry knew right where it was.  
  
Ray's voice popped up next to Michael's ear. "Hey, you don't look so good."  
  
"I, I don't think I'm going to make it," Michael muttered.  
  
"Hmm?" Lindsay glanced back at him. "What was that?"  
  
Just as they stopped their horses, they heard a crashing through the bushes from behind them. Alarmed, Lindsay gave out a panicked yelp.  
  
"Hey guys!" A chipper voice hailed them.  
  
"Miles, where were you?" Kerry asked, disgruntled and tired.  
  
"Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I had to take a leak, and then I lost the trail for a few but it's all good now." Miles showed no concern for their situation until he got a look at Michael. "Whoa, hey, what the fuck? Is he going to be alright?"  
  
Lindsay re-positioned herself so that she could prevent Michael from sliding off. Kerry got down from his horse to help her.  
  
"He's in really bad shape. Fuck, is he even breathing?" Alarmed, Kerry grabbed Michael to listen for a pulse. "Goddamn, he's still alive. We have to move faster."

-

"Ray?"  
  
"Yeah buddy?"  
  
Michael tried to focus on where his own body was physically but couldn't. He was just a voice. "Am I? Did I die?"  
  
Ray appeared out of the nothing before him. His eyes were sunken in and darker than Michael remembered. His wispy beard was overgrown, and his frame seemed delicately thin, as though merely looking in his direction was enough to break him.  
  
"Ray, I can see you. Does that mean I'm dead? Where's the desert hellscape you told me you went through?"  
  
"I'm...I don't know man." They both quietly looked away for a while until Ray asked, "Michael?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Do you forgive me?"  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For calling you a monster. For treating you like garbage the last time I saw you." Ray looked up at him. "I'm such a mean piece of shit."  
  
"Don't worry about it. You were just...freaked out. So was I." Emotion welled up in Michael. "Ray, I miss you."  
  
"I miss you, too, man."  
  
"Thanks for staying with me."

-

When the party had arrived at the cabin, Kerry was the first to dismount and check the premises. Cautiously, he drew his blade, opened the front door, and disappeared inside. A few moments later, the soft glow from a lantern bathed the interior in light.  
  
"Come in guys, it's ok," Kerry called out from inside.  
  
Miles, dismounted his horse and tied the reigns to a post on the porch. He tied the other horses as well, since Lindsay had her hands full supporting Michael. Carefully, the two lifted the boy and two-man carried him into the tiny wooden house. A strange, musty smell hit them. Everything inside was dressed in a thick layer of dust, save for their footprints. Kerry was bent over a hearth, trying to clear out the abnormally huge pile of ash and the remains of burnt logs. Miles and Lindsay gently laid Michael down close to the fireplace. Kerry turned to address Lindsay.  
  
"Could you get a fire going after I clear out this crap?" He asked.  
  
Lindsay nodded. She sat next to Michael to monitor him while she waited for Kerry to finish cleaning.  
  
"Good." He turned to Miles. "Could you help me with something really fast?"  
  
"Sure, what's up?" Of them all, Miles seemed the least daunted by the long journey.  
  
Kerry motioned for him to be quiet and follow him to the gloomier side of the cabin. On a small, short platform which served as a bed, a figure laid still and unmoving. They stood and stared at that dim spot for a few moments to be sure it wasn't alive. Miles turned to Kerry questioningly, but Kerry just shook his head and asked for help moving the body out. Miles replied with a look of disgust, but agreed to help. They both turned slowly to make sure Lindsay wasn't watching, but she was sitting up against the wall next to the fireplace with Michael's head in her lap. Her head was bent forward in sleep. They turned back to the body and uncovered it from the blanket. All that remained of the person were their bones, hair, and tattered clothes. They had been dead for years. Kerry looked upon them wistfully before he and Miles wrapped the remains and carried them outside to set on the porch.  
  
Kerry slid down to the ground next to the remains and buried his face in his hands. The mission had been a success, but that didn't mean it was without cost. His chest tightened. The memories of living at the castle came flooding back to him. Nothing about the place had changed in all the time he'd been gone. He choked on a sob and gasped for air.  
  
"I'm sorry about your friend. We can make a fire for him in the morning," Miles whispered, putting a hand on Kerry's shoulder. His mood noticeably sobered.  
  
"It's not that," Kerry replied. "He was old. It was his time."  
  
Miles was about to inquire when realization hit him. "Oh. You were home for a bit there."  
  
Kerry nodded, taking deep breaths. He wiped away the tears and composed himself. "I'll be okay. Michael won't though."  
  
Miles helped him to his feet and gave him a hug. "I'll go get water for the horses if you want to finish up the fire place."  
  
Kerry gave a half smile, and they both went inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted 7/20  
> 3,645 words  
> From here on out, almost every chapter will need to be written, so it'll take some time for me to do that! Sorry in advance, it might take a bit depending on how I'm feeling ;~;


	12. Elegy to the Void

The Night of the Rescue..

Joel threw the most resplendent masquerades, and that year's was no different. The normally clean, alabaster palace had become an ambient, enchanted forest playground. Vines of ivy and strings of tea lights wrapped every pillar, from top to bottom. A faux tree canopy obscured the ceiling, with chains of pendant lanterns strewn just below. Trellises of ivy embellished with freshly picked aster, chrysanthemum, and lillies surrounded the dance floor where most of the guests flocked. On the outer edges, shy wallflowers sat at tables with abandoned food and drink, chatting and declining offers to join the others.  
  
Ryan noticed between songs that Jon was no longer at his chair. Slyly he caught a glimpse of Joel and Adam still joking and slamming down drinks. He thought he saw a servant pass a note to Joel as his tankard was refilled, but the damn lighting in the room was dim. His mask didn't help either.  
  
Curtly, he bowed to his partner and asked a servant clearing dishes where Jon had gone.  
  
"To bed, Your Majesty. With a bad cold."  
  
Ryan narrowed his eyes. They had already scoured as much of the stupid maze of a palace as they could the day before. No trace of the persons of interest were found, so they had planned to watch Joel all night for any hint of conspiracy. The man was an idiot, but that was just a facade. He was keenly perceptive and an artist at hiding his own emotions; a trained expert at hiding anything he wanted to. Ryan hated and admired him for it. Jon had tried on multiple occasions to get anything out of him in jovial conversation and, each time without hesitation, Joel had called him out on it to hilarious and frustrating effect.  
  
The secretive king also surrounded himself with loyal, equally cunning guards, who were all in attendance and accounted for. Adam Ellis, Guardian of the Crown and expert weapons technician, was drinking with him. Adam Baird, Guardian of the Land and top battle tactician, was not far off drinking with Barbara, Guardian of Puns or something stupid. They kept her real title a mystery, but it might really have been diplomacy or communication.  
  
He quietly removed himself from the party and returned to the guest suites. There he found Jon in his room, as he suspected he would. The well composed, straight forward wizard of a week ago had become reserved and eerily cold towards Ryan. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew why, but waited politely for Jon to bring it up.  
  
His most trusted adviser sat on the edge of his bed, eyes glazed and muttering intently. He was communicating with someone through his apprentice.  
  
Ryan cleared his throat.  
  
"--Now leave," Jon finished. His eyes cleared and turned to look at Ryan.  
  
Ryan's eyebrows raised and he smiled uncertainly. "Something wrong?"  
  
"I've just released Kdin and allowed for Michael's escape," Jon replied bluntly.  
  
Ryan's heart skipped a beat. His immediate reaction was to strangle something, but he bit that back. Chewed on it internally until his fists relaxed again.  
  
"I'm sure you'll want to know why..." Jon said.  
  
"I absolutely would like an explanation."  
  
"I recently became aware of a plot to lure most of the guards away into the capitol for free drinks and entertainment. That's the dumbest, most conspicuous distraction in the world, but the guards fell for it. I stood by and watched what happened, because I was curious. You'll be delighted to know your little brother lives. He extracted Michael and picked up your favorite, Lindsay, all on his own. I'm sure by now he's running off to the woods with them while Kdin flies free." Jon nonchalantly inspected his finger nails as he spoke. "If any of the other servants were awake for the exchange, I'm sure they'll be leaving soon as well. The castle would be totally empty, save for your pet who lives in the old wing."  
  
Ryan clenched his jaw. "Why, Jon."  
  
"Because you took someone very important to me, Ryan. Were my life not bound by magic to yours, I would have made you suffer, as you made him suffer, and then killed you. This was the next best thing I could do." Jon stared at him, eyes dulled by lack of sleep.  
  
Ryan remained outwardly calm, but the seething rage boiled inside of him, building pressure. "I had my reasons. I have a reason I do everything, Jon. You should know why."  
  
"Yeah?" Jon's voice rose. "You have your justifications for all of this shit you pull? Why for Ray, then?"  
  
"I had to break Michael down somehow. I won't apologize for art," Ryan replied, matter-of-factly.  
  
Jon glared at him. "I'll pretend like I didn't hear that last part. So why for Michael then?"  
  
"He's a shape shifter who mauled people. They were dirty criminals, of course, but who knows what that kind of power could have led to,"  
  
"And the guy before?" Jon asked, nonplussed.  
  
"He was a vagrant who harassed hard working folks for money."  
  
"And before?"  
  
"A prostitute whose prices were exorbitant, he robbed many of a good coin or two."  
  
"And before?"  
  
"Another vagrant selling faulty wares."  
  
"And how many before him that you stole, took advantage of, and then killed?"  
  
"Look, I'm a man with certain urges and inclinations. It might be wrong, but you could no sooner separate my proclivities from me than you could the stars from the sky. The only one upset here is you," Ryan concluded.  
  
"Well, I always warned you you'd fuck up some day. I knew you'd get careless and one of them would have connections, people would make inquiries and find the truth. You not only made that mistake once, you made it twice in a row. You went behind my back." Tears started to well in Jon's eyes. "I suffered a thousand agonies when you killed one of my only friends in this world. I trudged through the deepest pits of the afterlife for eons looking for him and never found him. What were mere seconds to anyone else was so many lifetimes for me, and I'm tired. I barely had the energy to scour the capitol for Tina and Charlie. I found no trace. You didn't even know them. You threw his body in that cage like it was a sack of garbage. He died in the arms of a sick, starved, half-crazed animal. I couldn't even look at him. I couldn't even save him, I was too late."

-

Gavin woke up to Geoff gently prodding him in the shoulder. He had fallen asleep in a dining room chair, neck stiff from resting on the rough, wooden board that supported his back. "Wot?"  
  
"Hey, Gav. Why don't you go to bed?" Geoff asked, placing a blanket on the lad and sitting down next to him. "They're not getting any word from Kerry til tomorrow, you don't have to stay out here."  
  
"Geoff, how am I supposed to just sleep like everything's fine?" Gavin's throat was dry and irritated, so he coughed feebly. "I'm just sitting here twiddling my thumbs when Michael and Ray might be dead. I'm so useless and I hate it."  
  
"Taking care of yourself is the most you can do for them. You think that when they arrive, they'll want want to see you're in a bad way? Come on, dude, you're nothing but bones, your beard looks like shit, and you haven't bathed recently."  
  
"Thanks Geoff." Gavin couldn't help the sarcasm.  
  
"Hey, don't bite me for trying to look after you. I'm worried, too." Geoff thought for a second. "But Michael is pretty darn tough. That guy took all kinds of pain without blinking, remember those challenges he would do back at the shop?"  
  
"I guess," Gavin replied, unconvinced.  
  
"Or that time he saved your ass from a mugger? How did that go again?"  
  
Gavin sighed, pulling the blanket closer around him. He knew what Geoff was trying to do, but he gave in anyway. "I came into work with a swollen jaw one day, and you were livid. You thought Michael hit me and then skipped work to hide from you. So you stormed over to his place, which was close by at the time, and all the while I begged you to stop so I could explain. You were fuming."  
  
"Yeah, I was pretty pissed at him then," Geoff admitted. "I really thought he'd done it. Then what happened?"  
  
"So you busted in his apartment, he's laying in bed and couldn't move. You thought he was sleeping, you stomped over to him and ripped off the covers. You saw he was absolutely riddled with bruises, I think a few of his ribs were cracked, maybe a few fingers, too. He just smiled and said 'Hi Geoff' and you stumbled over backwards in shock. I finally got to explain to you what happened the previous night, and Michael added in his perspective, as he always does." Gavin grinned. "You vowed never to doubt him from then on, and you owed him a huge favor."  
  
"He used to be so fighty with you, it was a legitimate concern at the time."  
  
"You get fighty with me, too."  
  
"Yeah, well I'm your dad. I'm allowed." Geoff smiled softly. "I remember he started defense training after he recovered. He never wanted to have his ass kicked like that again, but really he did it to be able to protect you."  
  
Gavin felt his face flush. After all these years, the earnestness of that gesture still touched him. He only hummed in reply.  
  
Geoff rested his head on the table, but continued talking through a yawn. "And you went poor, because you thought if you had no money, no one would try and mug you. What a weird thing to do."  
  
They both sat in silence until Geoff started to snore quietly. Gavin shook his head in amusement and rested on the table next to him. He fell asleep before the nagging worry over Michael and Ray kept him awake.

-

The Following Day..

Kerry awoke first. A constant, annoying sound like snoring stirred him, and he sat up to determine who made such a racket. It was Michael, but he realized what the gurgling noise in his throat actually was.  
  
The death rattle.  
  
Sighing, Kerry got out of bed and started dressing for the day. He had already sent a messenger pigeon to Lloland Keep before he fell asleep only a couple hours ago, so he expected their arrival later in the evening. The poor bird had ridden with him in a transport cage the previous night and was glad to be free.  
  
Cursing the creaking of the old floorboards, he sneaked his way outside and stretched in the early morning sunlight. He grabbed a hatchet and snares from the shed and set off into the forest to set traps for small game.  
  
When he returned, he found Miles chopping firewood in his pajamas.  
  
"Hey Care Bear," he said. "I heard you leave and figured I should get up, too."  
  
"Did you hear Michael?" Kerry asked. He exchanged his hatchet for an ax and helped split logs.  
  
Miles nodded. "It's uh, it's bad dude."  
  
"Is the girl awake, too?"  
  
"Yeah, Lindsay is her name? I think? She's cleaning Michael up," Miles replied between swings.  
  
After they were done, they gathered up the wood and set it in a neat pile just outside of the back door. They sat down on the pile to rest.  
  
"Kerry?" Miles finally asked.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"We're fucked if Michael dies, right?"  
  
Kerry shook his head and leaned on Miles' shoulder. "I just hope the others get here soon."

-

Michael opened his eyes. They didn't ache for once, but he was confused about why he expected them to be. A soft, fragrant breeze washed over him and he breathed in deeply, looking up at a perfect blue sky. He'd never felt more peaceful. He'd never felt anything before, really, because there was no life he remembered prior to waking. He sat up easily and looked around at the field of white lilies he laid in. He plucked a flower and tucked it behind his ear.  
  
"Good morning," a woman's voice murmured in his ear.  
  
He turned toward her but didn't see anyone.  
  
"Uh, hi!" He replied. "You hiding from me?"  
  
"I'm sorry, but I don't have a corporeal form you can comprehend."  
  
"Oh, well that's fine I guess." Michael stood up and walked around in the almost waist-high field of lilies.  
  
"Where are you going?" the lady asked.  
  
"Just looking around. I feel like I lost something," he explained.  
  
She giggled. "I've temporarily erased your memories, that's probably why."  
  
Hearing her laugh made Michael smile and want to laugh, too. "Will I get them back?" He started picking flowers, gathering them into one arm.  
  
"Yes, you will. First, I need you to make a decision, though. Can you do that?"  
  
"I can try." He sat down and began weaving the stems into a flower crown.  
  
"It's an easy question, but it's one I don't often ask. Would you like to stay with me?"  
  
He didn't answer right away. Something nagged at him deep in his subconsciousness, but he couldn't grasp what it was. "Well what happens if I say yes?"  
  
"Then you leave everyone behind and live here. All the suffering of the world can never harm you again."  
  
"Who am I leaving behind?" A small, white spider crawled on his hand, and he set it down on a lily next to him. He had the feeling it apologized to him then wandered off to find a new flower to live in.  
  
"That's why I made you forget. If I let you remember them now, of course you would want to return to them, regardless of the consequences. You must decide independent of outside influences, it should be from the heart only."  
  
"What happens if I go back?" He finished the flower crown and placed it on his head.  
  
"You'll remember everything and live once more. It will be hard, though. Your life, as of very recently, hasn't been kind. Look behind you."  
  
He turned around to see a chunk of the field had been freshly scorched. It upset him mildly, so he looked away.  
  
"Will it get better?" He asked, laying down again and looking up at the sky.  
  
"There's only one way to find out."  
  
He contemplated his options. He felt so warm and happy, it was hard to see a reason to return to his real life if it was going to be shit. But something bothered him about staying. It wasn't the lady, she was genuinely sweet, and he felt like he'd always known her. No, there was someone he needed to see again. He wished he knew who it was.  
  
"How long can I stay here before I decide?"  
  
She hummed in amusement. "I think you've already chosen to leave, Michael."  
  
Michael? That was his name he supposed.  
  
"Don't worry, you'll be back again someday. When you're ready, follow the path through the field, and you'll find your memories at the door. Good luck."  
  
After her goodbye, he couldn't stop the tears that escaped him. He longed for her to keep talking to him, but he wasn't sure why. A small bird landed on a lily next to him and chirped. He smiled meekly and closed his eyes. He'd have one last nap before he left.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted 7/30  
> 2,590 words


	13. When You Sleep

"Gavin! You wanted to see me?" Joel asked, arms open in welcome but his expression seemed reserved. Hesitant.  
  
Gavin ducked into the room, half bowing and half attempting to be smaller and meeker. As though he could be an annoyance to anyone in his condition. "Uh, yeah, Your Highness."  
  
The room was close to the top of the central building of the castle, and Gavin was still somewhat winded from climbing so many stairs. He had never seen much of the estate, and was somewhat disappointed with the lack of grandeur on that floor. The main part which he had become accustomed to passing through was thoroughly ornate from the gold plated chandeliers to the shimmering floor tile. The place seemed almost on the edge of tackiness but somehow never crossed that line. How that aesthetic never carried throughout the whole interior design baffled him.  
  
The king waved his hand dismissively. "You're fine just calling me Joel. It's weird for me when people call me stuff like that." He motioned for Gavin to sit in the shabby armchair across from him, which the younger man did. The fireplace was the only inviting feature of the otherwise dark and dusty room. "So you wanted to talk to me...?"  
  
"Well, I, uh. I wanted to know why I wasn't allowed to go on the mission. With Kerry, Miles, Monty and Kyle...?" Gavin asked, hands shaking in his lap and leg bouncing rapidly. He tried desperately to relax. He hadn't seen Joel since they had first arrived, so he wasn't sure what to expect.  
  
Joel had a strange way of speaking. As dark and sleep-deprived as his features appeared, he was still very expressive and making strange faces and gesticulations. "See, this is where I'm supposed to make up some garbage bullshit about whatever, but I'm really, really tired today. I'll just give it to you straight so you actually understand, uh...what's happening." Joel sighed before leaning forward, hands clasped and elbows resting on his legs. "See, I'm not in charge here."  
  
Gavin's mind stopped spinning. "W-what?"  
  
Joel continued. "I haven't been in charge of anything my entire life. There's a, uh, 'council' of people who take care of things behind the scenes and all I have to do is sign papers, give occasional parties, meetings, all that. Speeches, too. Beyond that, I'm just a figurehead and have no serious authority."  
  
Gavin's heart threatened to beat out of his chest. He was thankful he hadn't eaten that day because his stomach felt so desperately like it needed to ring itself out like a sponge. "So. You're saying you don't know anything?"  
  
"I absolutely know everything there is to know around here. I'm in the middle of all the action, but I just don't make many of the decisions."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I belong to the people, the parliament, and my advisers. The crown is a symbol. If I were solely in charge of everything, I'd probably run this place into the ground. Really, anyone would. Just look at King Ryan for a good example."  
  
He felt the weight of uselessness fall on his shoulders once more, and the crushing anxiety that had riddled him since his boy had left him seemed to double its might in light of disappointment. As if hearing about Ray hadn't been enough. "They told me to come ask you...though."  
  
"Yeeaaah, they expected me to just make up some shit like how it's not how we do things around here or something, but I understand what you're going through. I can't help not feeling what you're going through, it kills me that I feel what everyone's going through all the time." Joel pinched his brow, shifting his jaw uncomfortably. "So, please trust me...when I say...that, as much as we possibly can, we have everything under control."  
  
"I wanted to see Michael, though."  
  
"I know. And I'm sorry I can't do anything about it. But to be fair...sorry for how this is going to sound, it's harsh, but you've been a miserable mess since you've been here, no offense. I can't see the Adams allowing someone so emotionally invested be involved in such a high stakes operation." He absentmindedly rubbed a worn spot on his arm chair, picking at the threads that had come loose, and glancing up at Gavin hesitantly. "I'm glad you came to talk, though. After we received the message about your friend, Ray's, unfortunate death, I had to be the one to break it to Geoff. And, boy did that not go well. You seem less likely to lash out at me." Gavin could feel tears welling up, but just when he was going to excuse himself, Joel spoke up. "Gavin, do you like cats?"  
  
"W-what?"  
  
"I have something for you actually, to, um, show you, if you'll come with me."  
  
Gavin preferred retreating to his own bed. But, he remembered being confronted about the necklace someone in the Court had given to Michael and he couldn't help feeling slightly intrigued by a potential gift of his own. Reluctantly, he wiped his sleeves over his eyes as Joel stood up.  
  
The king gave him a lit lamp to carry and motioned for him to follow. He slipped behind a tapestry to open a hidden door which revealed a narrow dark passage that led to a tiny room which seemed to be a hub for hidden hallways with a spiral staircase in the middle. If Gavin had to guess, he would have assumed they were between the walls of other rooms, which was genius because no one ever paid attention to the size of the room and the size it should have been. Taking just a couple feet from one wall or two hardly made a difference to the casual observer. He wondered how many people had passed through them during his stay and how many more secrets there were hidden throughout the castle.  
  
He was just glad he wasn't particularly claustrophobic.  
  
They ascended the rickety staircase, and at the top, Joel opened a hatch in the ceiling and crawled into the gloom. Upon joining him, he noticed the acrid smell of cat waste and the sounds of tiny mewls. They appeared to be in an attic. Joel took the lamp from him and walked over to a corner of the room. Gavin slowly approached him as he crouched in front of an old cushion on the floor. A small litter of clumsy kittens waddled on and around their mother, purring and mewing at the visitors. Joel looked up at him and grinned as Gavin quietly gasped in surprise.  
  
"Joel, you keep these cats a secret? Even though you have a ton of them roaming around everywhere?" He put his hand near the mother to let her sniff him.  
  
"Well, these ones are special. The mom's my favorite so I kept her babies here to be safe." Joel set the lamp down between them and picked a kitten up.  
  
"But then how does she get out and eat and all that?" He asked, picking up a kitten of his own, only to have it's siblings clamber into his lap.  
  
"There's a window and a tree she can use to get down. Plus, I feed her a lot."  
  
"So this is where you've been all the times no one could find you?"  
  
"Well, Gilby has some idea of where I go, but he's nice enough to leave me alone when I don't want to deal with anything."  
  
"What if I tell them this is where you go?"  
  
"You wouldn't do that." The confidence with which he said that struck Gavin.  
  
"You've been watching me." Gavin said, half looking for confirmation but half certain it was true. "You commented earlier about me being miserable and all that. You wouldn't have known unless you'd seen it."  
  
Joel shrugged. "You're a guest in my home, as are your friends. Can you blame me for wanting to know who I let into my life?"  
  
Gavin looked at the man bent over his clawing, biting kittens, but he didn't look back. "So, may I ask what it is that you do exactly, besides snoop on people?"  
  
Joel cocked his head. He looked pained, as if he really didn't want to answer that question truthfully. "I count gold. Watch the income for the Crown, try to invest the surpluses, um, predict lean seasons and plan how best to navigate them," he paused, looking away. "I also write. Sometimes scripts for plays...which I also direct."  
Of all the things he thought he expected in their meeting, Joel opening up to him wasn't one of them. "Well, I knew about the gold stuff, you're very vocal about that. But, I didn't know that other bit."  
  
"I try not to let many people know that. If it's anything I've learned over the years, it's don't let anyone learn what you're thinking. If you can keep your real self a secret, that's a good thing. Anyone who has any idea of who you are has some understanding of what you can and can't do, and, given the chance, they will absolutely use that to screw you over."  
  
He gave a noncommittal hum. "I can't do that, I can't not be genuine to people."  
  
Joel sighed, and they sat in yet more awkward silence. The lamp oil had mostly been burned and the flame had dwindled to barely more than a dim, orange ember on the end of the wick.  
  
"Anyway, I wanted to give you a cat, cuz I know you like cats, and I know you're all worried and stuff...about your boyfriend...and cats always make me feel better about my problems, so I thought maybe you'd want a cat." The older man picked one up and handed it to him. "Here, I think this one likes you."  
  
It mewled at him, eyes bright and blue. Gavin cuddled him instinctively, and his heart felt like it had caved in. Maybe in a good way or bad way, he couldn't tell. "Thank you," he said, face muffled in soft, beige fur.  
  
"Yeah..." Joel looked like he wanted to say more, but didn't.

-

Lindsay sat with an exhausted huff and examined her new surroundings.  
  
It felt good to be in such a small, cozy place. The circumstances were not how she thought running away would go down, but she was alive and unharmed. She couldn't say the same for Michael.  
  
He laid next to the fireplace, hardly breathing since early that morning when they had arrived. She cleaned him up to ease his stench, but he was dying of rotten, infected wounds. Curiously, his rattling breaths stopped and he seemed to be breathing quietly again. There wasn't much her inexperienced hands could do besides keep the fire from going out.  
  
The boys had gone out earlier to hunt. She would have been annoyed that they left her to babysit their patient alone, but they had no food. She had never gone hungry before.  
  
So while she awaited their return, she kept busy opening up the doors and cleaning the old cabin. The whole ceiling was nothing but spiderwebs between rafters, and she was sure there was a family of mice living in the log walls. Their droppings were everywhere. When she finished dusting and sweeping, she hauled a cauldron down to the river to scrub and fill. She washed out a stack of buckets and hauled them back filled as well. She mopped the floors, cleaned the cutlery and dishes, and wiped the windows.  
  
While she sat at the table taking a break, she pondered the possibility of going home. Not right then, of course. She wasn't prepared to just wander alone into the woods on her crap sense of direction. But, she assumed the boys were from a place where they would eventually take Michael, if he lived. She would tag along, helping where she could, and when the chance to leave opened up, she would go. Even if her family was gone, there was something about returning to a place she felt at home that appealed to her.  
  
There were so many options open to her now, and the chance to start anew rekindled a fire in her that she thought had been extinguished long ago. Humming cheerfully, she got back up to continue cleaning. 

Later, when she was relaxing with a cup of tea, she heard the racket of crunching sticks underfoot and the loud voices of the boys. She jumped up to stand in the door and greet them as they hauled a deer tied by the legs to a pole.  
  
"Oh my god, Lindsay, you have no idea the trouble we've been through," Miles said as him and Kerry set the deer down just outside the cabin.  
  
"Oh shit, what happened?" Lindsay asked, not noticing any obvious evidence of misfortune on their part.  
  
"The trouble /you've/ been through, you mean," Kerry corrected.  
  
"Ok, whatever, shut up, just let me tell the story." Miles walked over to Lindsay, rolling up his sleeve. "See those welts?" He asked her.  
  
His arm was a swollen, red mess of lumps. Lindsay jumped, eyes wide. "Dude, what the fuck happened to you?"  
  
Miles gingerly rolled his sleeve back over his arm, grimacing and sucking air through his teeth. "So, there we were, out in the woods. We came across a meadow, but we stayed in the trees, you know, so any deer or whatever wouldn't see us immediately. Well we were circling around when I spotted this guy right here--" he pointed at the dead deer on the ground, which Lindsay guessed to be a doe, not a buck "--and so I was following it, keeping my eyes on it, and my bow at the ready. Kerry was dicking around behind me somewhere, probably smelling his own farts or something."  
  
"Like hell I was, you were the one who was behind me!" Kerry snapped.  
  
"Well, whatever, that's not important," Miles laughed, then continued with feigned seriousness. "So, we were getting close to this deer, but we were pretty far apart, because if one of us missed, the other needed to be at the ready if the deer bolted. And, I kid you not, I was so focused on this stupid, fucking deer that I straight up fell into a patch of stinging nettles or something. I don't know what they were or why they were there, but they shouldn't exist, because sweet baby daddy do I want to rip my skin off right now." He made intense clawing motions at his arms but didn't dare actually scratch them.  
  
"And who saved all our asses by shooting the deer because you fucked up...?" Kerry asked Miles pointedly.  
  
"Yoooou did, Kewwy." He sighed, getting down on one knee and mock-exalting Kerry. "Oh gentle stars from on high, how would I have survived all these weary years without my Care-Bear? Surely, this baby boy of mine is a gift from the Great Ones, sent to me so that I could learn from him how to change my dull, earthly ways. Forgive me Kewwy, I beg of you." He stayed kneeling there, beaming with amusement.  
  
Kerry threw his hands in the air, exasperated. "Things I gotta do to get some damn recognition around here." He shook his head and looked to Lindsay for sympathy.  
  
She didn't know what to make of those two. They were...strange people. It was obvious they goofed around with each other constantly, and she didn't get where she was supposed to fit into a dynamic like that. She only smiled at Kerry, in her own unsure way, and shrugged.  
  
Miles hopped up. "So, how are we cooking this sucker?"  
  
"Uh, good question. Lindsay, do you...cook..at all?" Kerry asked.  
  
Her smile disappeared. "Not really, I usually was in charge of cleaning and serving. If I had to help in the kitchen, I chopped vegetables, but that was it, sorry."  
  
"Well," Miles rubbed his hands together, "it's time for Miles' famous wilderness stew, just gotta shove this entire deer into a cauldron, add a splash of water, maybe some twigs and leaves--"  
  
"Ugh, Miles stop." Kerry giggled, but regained his cool. " We don't have any vegetables or anything, we'll just have to roast it, I guess. I don't really want plain, boiled deer."  
"So how is plain, roasted deer any better?" Miles asked.  
  
"Because meat always tastes better roasted, you know this." Kerry took a knife out of his boot and began untying the deer's legs.  
  
"Yeah you right, you right." Miles stood over the deer, watching his friend work. "So how do we get it from being...whole...to being delicious and in my stomach?"  
"Well first we gotta cut open--"  
  
Lindsay's stomach tightened and she held her breath. Quietly, she stepped back into the house and closed the door. Only hot embers burned in the fireplace, and though she could feel sweat building on her brow, she threw another log in. Pain shot through her chest with every breath she took, but she mentally walked herself through every step, taking her time and focusing on regaining her composure. When the fire was reborn, she turned to check Michael. The bruises and cuts over his bony frame only made her feel worse. It was foolish to think she'd ever be free; that anyone could ever live through hell and come out unscathed.  
  
She sat down at the table and stared at the fire. Stared through it.  
  
Ryan stared back, laughing in her head.

-

There had never been so many stars before, that was how clear the sky was. On such a moonless night, they reflected perfectly in a lake of glass, obscuring the dividing line of the horizon.  
  
The silent streak of a falling star roused Michael, and he shifted to laying on his back, careful not to tip his raft over. He gazed at the spot where it burnt out, waiting for another one to appear.  
  
A faint splashing noise in the distance echoed across the water. He ignored it, thinking instead about the ripples that disturbed the otherwise calm lake. The perfect reflection ruined. With languid eyes, he finally turned toward the source of the noise.  
  
Someone was walking through the water towards him. Strange. He was in the middle of a vast lake, that spanned from one stretch of mountains to the other. It should have been much too deep to even swim across.  
  
When the person neared, they spoke in an almost annoyed tone. "Michael, c'mon man. You have to get up some time."  
  
"I'm in the middle of a lake. I can't swim," Michael replied.  
  
The person offered their hand. "It's not a lake, it's a salt flat filled with ankle deep water."  
  
"Oh." He took the person's hand and stood up. "So, who are you?"  
  
"You'll see me when you wake up."  
  
The ground fell out from beneath him, and he startled awake.  
  
His eyes were wet from crying which had plugged up his nose with snot. He found it strange but then he felt like he wasn't quite done. He laid still, staring up at a blurry ceiling until the tears stopped leaking out. He was certainly in enough pain to warrant the waterworks but he had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't the reason for them.  
  
Without moving too much, he craned his head back to get a sideways view of his surroundings. Nothing looked familiar, but he was on the floor of a dark room. His only light source was a fire that had mostly died out, barely illuminating a charred hearth.  
  
Not being able to breathe through his nose bothered him, so he sharply inhaled, snorting loudly.  
  
He heard someone move around in their bedroll close by. He didn't realize he wasn't alone.  
  
The person yawned, stretched, and eventually sat up. "Michael?" they whispered.  
  
He remained quiet, listened intently and heard the quiet breathing of other sleepers. He must have blacked out from drinking with Gavin, but who were these other people?  
  
"Michael, you awake?" they asked insistently.  
  
He wasn't fond of the dream, if it was one, so he settled back into his pillow and closed his eyes to start a new one.  
  
When he opened them, he was blinded by light shining through a window. He became aware of the noises of busy people around him, the clanking of pots and pans, the stomping of boots on the floor, the casual conversations said between mouthfuls of food. He didn't hear his boy's voice among them.  
  
He struggled to recognize any of the voices speaking, or even the language. He knew they made sense, but he just couldn't grasp it right away.  
  
Why did he hurt so much? Tears leaked out of his eyes, and, with monumental effort, he reached a hand up to wipe them. He inspected his bony fingers, wet with tears. They were so pale and long, like he was barely more than a skeleton. The nails were overgrown and brittle, chipped and dirty. They didn't look like that in the last dream.  
  
"Michael?" A chair was scooted back, screeching against a wooden floor. A pale man with dark features kneeled over him, smiling brightly. "Good morning, sleepy guy!"  
  
Another man joined him, similar in looks, but somehow more familiar. "Hey, buddy. How you doing?"  
  
He understood them, which was a relief. But he couldn't figure out how to reply with words. They looked at him expectantly, and all he could do was wave weakly with eyes half open.  
  
The first one nodded his head. "Okay, better than nothing. I think we're getting somewhere."  
  
"Yeah, I don't know if this is normal or not. Lindsay, can you come look at him?" The second one asked to someone behind him.  
  
A third person leaned over him, and he knew her. Green-blue eyes stared back at his, and, involuntarily, he began to cry again. He felt so confused and infantile.  
  
"Uh, guys, let's give him so more time to recover, I think he's still unstable," she said, biting her lip. She hung a cloth over the window above him to darken his corner of the room and walked back to where she was before.  
  
The two men gave him sympathetic smiles and went back to the table to eat in silence.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, he was in darkness once more.  
  
He had an idea why Gavin wasn't there. He wasn't waking up from a night of heavy drinking. He wasn't sure how long it'd been, but he was sure he'd been through something worse. It was so much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted 8/28  
> 3,762 words  
> A thousand apologies for the long wait and stuff! I'm not the happiest with the chapter and rewrote it a billion times ;n;


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